


Lead Sails & Paper Anchors

by yersiniapestis



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dirty Talk, Forced Feminization, Gangbang, Humiliation, M/M, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Sexual Violence, Torture, Verbal Abuse, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 70,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2816567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yersiniapestis/pseuds/yersiniapestis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can’t wait to be back home. This place is shitty.” A voice in the background said something and Felix sighed. “Right. I’m supposed to tell you that you should agree to what they want from you. I don’t know how serious they are, ‘cause all they’ve done to me is lock me in a room with like four people. Not an orgy, sadly, just some assholes who cheated at CQC and decided to give me new bruises.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE: Almost all rape/non-con scenes are graphic. If you know it'll be a trigger for you, read with caution.  
> Individual warnings will be given for each chapter where appropriate. 
> 
> to the Anonymous Enabler: thanks for the help.

Their orders were to get “the short one”. Grab him, knock him out if necessary, tie him up and gag him. Just get him back to headquarters without killing him or injuring him too badly. It wasn’t supposed to be the difficult part of the job, and they still spent days tracking down where to even find the guy, isolating where he stayed and where he and his partner went frequently. This was the first time he had been spotted alone and out of armor, and they followed him right into this dirty bar where every breath came laced with smoke.

There were three of them in the bar, half the team, watching the merc they had to snatch. Waiting. Had to wait, had to watch him and tail him when he left before snatching him off the side of the street. The idea was that it would be a lot easier to catch someone who was so very dangerous if he was wasted off his ass. The only problem was the multitude of people around, and the target himself.  

“We should at least be able to break a bone or something,” Johnson said quietly. A glass of untouched beer sat in front of him. “He’s supposed to be dangerous, right? So why can’t we break something and subdue him that way?”

“Because orders,” Davis answered, “You can piss off the Boss if you like, but I’d rather live.” His drink was being emptied steadily, a sign that he was just taking this as a night to get a good buzz going.

Though Davis wasn’t taking this night seriously at all and all Johnson was good for was complaining, Walker kept his eyes on the idiot mercenary.

When they had entered the bar, it was hard to find where the hell Felix was - the place was packed. Lots of angry people yelling at each other. A woman had lunged for the man across the table from her as soon as they entered, clamping her hands around his neck. Bouncers yelled for them to stop fighting before someone died, to take it outside at least. Men at one table where smoking heavily, drinking and yelling at each other.

Then, at the bar, there was one noisy man, sitting on a bar stool and surrounded by a small group. This one, whose feet barely reached the middle rung of the bar stool, said, “Locus is a fuckin’ asshole and won’t drink with me. I offered to pay - told him it was totally on me, but no, no. Can’t loosen up for one fuckin’ night.”

The three of them had taken seats at a table close to the bar. They could hear every word Felix said, and it wavered between boasting of his own skills, insulting the other mercs, and flirting with anyone around him. Every few minutes, he would talk about Locus. How Locus wouldn’t come drink with him, how Locus refused to even leave the apartment tonight. Even how Locus wouldn’t fuck him when he was drinking. It was like the idiot had no filter, just spit out whatever came to mind.

This was who they were after; this short, obnoxious idiot that kept himself surrounded by other mercs and waved for drink after drink until he could barely hold his head up.

They had been in the bar for nearly two hours now, drinking slowly, trying to keep attention away from themselves. At least with all the drinks Davis was downing, no one was suspicious. No one asked questions, no one approached them. The one plus to a merc bar, really: no one gave a fuck about anyone else’s business.

In the time they had been there, Johnson had gotten two calls from the rest of the team and Felix had left the bar once. It had caught all of their attention - but all he had done was wander over to another merc in a corner and settle onto the other man’s lap. That had been one point where Walker took his eyes off of Felix because watching the noisy prick being groped by another drunk mercenary was not what he signed up for.

Hell, sitting in this goddamn bar wasn’t what he had signed up for, but here he was. Drinking with Davis, listening to Johnson bitch, and watching the mercenary they intended to capture like a hawk toying with its prey.

Felix had only spent ten minutes with the man in the corner before returning to the bar. He sat right back in the seat he had vacated and the next thing they heard from him was - “What the fuck do y’mean you guys are afraid of Locus?”

“He broke someone’s face,” another merc answered. “For fuckin’ you! No one wants to mess with that.”

“One time!” Felix protested, “He got a little angry one fuckin’ time!”

“He’s also shot someone before,” the other man added.

Another merc spoke up then. “And then there was that time he broke someone’s ribs, broke Mari’s arm - and she’s still bitching about that - “

“Nah, nah,” Felix said. “I broke her arm. She got handsy.”

“Point stands, man - no one wants to chance it.”

At the table, Johnson was cursing quietly as he finally reached for his drink. “How sure are we that we want to mess with these two?” he asked. “I mean, goddamn, listen to the shit they’re saying.”

At the bar, Felix was caught up trying to explain away various broken bones of his fellow mercenaries. Sounded like he was trying to blame a lot of it on what was going on at the time of the injuries, but his words were slurring and it was damn near impossible to decipher.

“Boss’s orders,” Davis said.

Johnson grumbled insults and Davis leaned over to take his drink too. Over at the bar, Felix was still complaining loudly about how no one would sleep with him, how his partner was an asshole, how everyone else wasn’t much better.

“Listen to him,” Johnson sighed. “We have to capture that? He’s just ...bitching. What kind of fuckin’ wimp ass merc is this kid?”

Davis said nothing, too busy downing the rest of Johnson’s drink.

Walker said, “That wimp ass kid is dangerous. Stop griping. Think about beatin’ his ass instead.” He paused, sighing. “He’s bitchin’ like he’s a whore though.”

“ S’pretty accurate,” Johnson said. He was staring at the table beneath his fingers, at the phone that lay in front of him, dark and silent. “We’re supposed to be a tough gang, and here we are. Pickin’ up whores in a merc bar.”

Davis slammed the glass in his hand on the table. “Speaking of! Got an idea. Gimme five minutes.” Then he was gone, pushing away from the table and wandering over to where Felix sat. His friends watched him as he made room for himself and engaged Felix in brief conversation. It took less than three minutes for Felix to shove his glass at the bartender and slide off the stool.

It was pretty clear now why their instructions had just been ‘the short one’ rather than a name. With his feet flat on the ground, Felix barely reached Davis’s shoulders. Johnson looked at him and scoffed. “Dude is tiny,” he said. It was pretty damn true - Felix couldn’t be much taller than five feet, if he wasn’t five feet even. Johnson mused,  “We’re supposed to be afraid of this guy?”

Walker said nothing. He watched Felix grip Davis by the belt and start pulling him toward the door.  Drunk fool could barely stand, wavering on his feet and stumbling when he moved. Felix navigated through feel alone, barely taking his eyes off Davis, not even turning around. It might have been impressive if he didn’t run into someone three feet from the bar. While he was spitting insults at the man who rose from his chair, Davis flashed a grin at his two companions sitting at the table. Even winked, the bastard.

Felix noticed, snapping his head around to them. He said, “Friends of yours?” and it carried across to the pair at the table. Then he was leaving Davis, using chairs and other people to hold himself steady until he could flatten both hands on their table. He glanced over both Walker and Johnson, leering, eyes dark. After a moment, he smirked. “Sorry I’m stealin’ your bud away” -he nodded toward Davis, standing beside him again- “but I can totally handle two guys.”

This short mercenary, drunk out of his mind, was raking his eyes over both Johnson and Walker. Like he was undressing each of them. There was a surprising amount of concentration in his expression for someone who was drunk and trying to hook up with strangers. Eventually he added, “I’ll take him,” and grinned at Johnson.

Johnson exchanged a look with Davis, a silent plea to take this idiot away. Or at least that was what Walker took it to mean. It only took seconds for Davis to be leading Felix out of the bar. Johnson kept his eyes on them until they passed through the door and after a moment he said, “Shouldn’t we be following them?”

“Yeah, good idea. Wouldn’t be suspicious at all.”

“He wanted to fuck us too. How would that be suspicious?”

Instead of answering, Walker made the call to the rest of their team. He told them that they had the target ready to go. “How long on your end?”

There was a pause, hushed voices on the other end of the line. Then, “Give us a few more minutes. We’ll have the van ready to go and waiting. You better have him by then.”

He hung up without answering. Insinuating he couldn’t apprehend one drunken idiot was a goddamned insult. After that was taken care of, he motioned for Johnson to follow him and headed to the bar, ordering another pair of drinks. Just to keep up the image that they were nothing but a couple of assholes wanting to get drunk.

It didn’t take long for one of the mercenaries to turn toward them. “You sure you want your friend takin’ Felix out?” the guy asked. Heavy-set, and strapped down with guns. Overcompensating.

“What’s the worst that’s gonna happen?” Johnson asked, peering at the group of mercs from around Walker.

“Locus is gonna kick his ass,” another merc supplied.

Walked rolled his eyes, ordered another drink. “You talk like Locus owns him,” he said quietly. To him, that's all it sounded like. With the way his gang was planning to use the two mercenaries, he was willing to believe it.

The mercenaries hadn’t heard him, too busy talking with Johnson now, talking around Walker like he wasn’t even there. After another two minutes, Walker paid for the drinks and left with Johnson on his heels, asking, “You don’t think Davis is actually gonna fuck the guy, do ya?”

“He wouldn’t.”

“But what if he does?”

“Then he’s probably gonna have crabs or something,” Walker said. They were outside now, heading for the nearest alleyway.

“One of those mercs said they’ve never known Felix to not fuck someone he drags out of the bar.”

“Again: Crabs. That’s how it ends. Now shut the fuck up. Christ, you’ve been a whinin’ fuck all evening.”

They had reached the alleyway, standing at the end. Davis had led Felix there, just as planned, and what they saw was Felix being shoved against a wall. Being so much taller than the merc didn’t seem to bother Davis at all. He had yanked Felix up a few inches, leaning down to cover the rest of the distance, and was kissing him. After a second, Johnson was giggling, and Walker heard him choke out, “He’s actually fuckin’ doin’ it…”

For a second, Walker had no idea what he was talking about - but then Davis let Felix fall back to the ground. And it was entirely obvious that Felix had a hand down Davis’s pants, groping him. As the other two watched, Felix sank to his knees, saying, “You’re gonna feel real good when I blow you.” Then he was undoing Davis’s pants, pulling out his cock and stroking it.

Davis hadn’t moved beyond placing one hand on the brick wall.

Johnson was still laughing, background noise as Walker slid the pistol from its holster on his hip. He wouldn’t shoot this goddamn mercenary, maybe just slap him around a little. He had only taken two steps forward before Felix’s eyes were on him and a grin was spreading over his face.

“Change your mind?” the merc said. He probably thought he sounded seductive. “I can take you too, come on.“

“Entertaining the goddamn whore wasn’t part of the plan,” Walker said to Davis. He ignored the anger that flashed over Felix’s face, glaring instead at Davis.

Davis looked somewhere between surprised and ashamed. He was trying to talk, raising his hands from the wall, but only got as far as, “Man, seriously…”

And then Walker was pointing the gun down at Felix, ready to fire. All for show, of course. Couldn’t really harm the little thing. “You wanna fuck him?” Walker asked. “Do you?” A hand landed on his arm - Johnson, telling him to take it easy for fuck’s sake. He ignored Johnson because he was in charge and Johnson was still a whiny fuck.

“Didn’t think it’d be so bad….” Davis muttered. Between his legs, Felix was glaring at the gun pointed at him.

“You can fuck him when we’ve got him,” Walker continued. “Until then, keep your goddamn dick to yourself.”

There wasn’t even a second of silence before Davis was screaming. Felix still had his hands on his dick, bending it until Davis pulled away from him. None of the three of them moved - aside from Davis, who bent forward to cover his dick, cursing. “Fucker broke my dick!”

Next second, there was a knife lodged into Davis’s throat. His words petered out into gurgling sounds as one hand came to the wound. Felix, drunk and swaying on his feet, was in front of him and grasping the hilt of the knife. He had thrown the damn thing, hitting with lethal aim even in the state he was in. Walker charged him first, wishing more than ever that shooting this bastard was part of the job. He raised the gun in his hand instead, intending to beat Felix over the head with it until he passed out.

Felix wrenched the knife from Davis’s throat the second before Walker reached him. He lashed out quick, slicing at Walker and dodging the gun at the same time. The first strike missed completely. The second cut deep into his face, narrowly missing his eye as Felix dragged the blade across his cheek and over his nose. It was the pain that brought Walker to his knees. White hot, searing pain that made his entire face feel like it was on fire. He pressed fingers to the slash on his face, wincing, positive this little whore had cut straight through to the bone.

He didn’t look up when Johnson rushed past him. Didn’t even move until Johnson’s body slammed into the ground in front of him. Slashed across the base of his neck, more wounds in his chest. Walker glanced over at Felix.

“Holy shit.” Felix was laughing, grinning, blood on his hands and dripping from the knife he held. He stood by where Davis had collapsed. “I’m ...so fuckin’ awesome...”

Somehow, they had ended up underestimating him, or someone had let their guard down. Something had gone wrong and instead of three of them overpowering one small, drunk mercenary, two of them were dead and Walker had to focus way too hard to see Felix clearly.

“Took down three of you,” Felix was saying. His speech was still slurred and when he moved toward Walker, he stumbled over his own feet. “Gonna be a great story for Locus when I get home.”

The sound of wheels screeching over the street caught Felix’s attention. He bypassed Walker completely, walking past where he knelt, and then whistled lowly. Walker turned his head, squinting until the figures leaving the van were clear. Two of them, converging on Felix.

Of course, they had no idea that Felix still moved fast. They should have been able to guess from the two dead men in the alley, but Felix still dodged their attacks - barely, he nearly tripped over his own feet - and then he was striking with that goddamn knife again. He struck one of them, dragging the knife over the woman’s knuckles before Walker had even pushed himself to his feet.

Felix still had his back to Walker, still focused on the other two. Made it nice and easy to slam the pistol into the back of his head. Felix grunted when it connected, body tensing. On the second hit, the knife fell from his hand and Felix collapsed on the pavement. He was still groaning when Walker slammed one foot into his back and leaned down to yank his hands behind his back. He had Felix handcuffed in seconds - not that it really mattered.

“Goddamn,” one of the other two said. “How the fuck did he manage to do this?”

“He’s dangerous,” Walker snarled. When he glared at the other two, they were looking back at him with wide eyes. The one Felix had cut was cradling her injured hand in the other. They were looking at the cut down his face, he figured. Neither of them moved and Walker lifted Felix easily, dragging him up and throwing the bastard over his shoulders. He made a face as he did, one that made the wound seize and throb anew - but, fucking hell, he could feel this punk's erection against his shoulder.

Managed to kill two of them, injure two more, and Felix was still hard. Fitting for a whore, he thought.

Walker carried Felix to the van, tossing him into the back and then climbing in. He kicked Felix’s unconscious body further away from him, scowling. This had been the easy part in the plan, and they had lost two men doing it. All because Felix had managed to dig his claws into Davis and get the jump on them.

His wound was tended to first, quickly, until bandages were pressed to it and gauze wrapped around his face. He was given painkillers and as they were starting to take effect, he stared down at Felix, nudged him with one boot. After a moment, he said, “Who's gonna watch this one?”

“Don’t know,” was his answer. “Boss hasn’t picked anyone yet.”

“I’ll do it. Fix my fuckin’ face and I’ll never leave this fuck alone.”

* * * * *

Felix hadn’t come home by morning. It wasn’t worrying, since he usually didn’t make it home until around mid-afternoon. Locus expected him to walk in the door hours from now, stinking of liquor and smoke, and complaining about how lonely it was to drink by himself. So Locus made his breakfast in the quiet of the apartment, ate while reading, and busied himself with cleaning up the place before Felix inevitably wrecked it again.

Locus’s apartment had two bedrooms, the second remodeled to hold his weapons and armor. It held Felix’s as well, as he never really seemed to bother with his own place anymore, and Locus stopped here last. It was already clean; he refused to let Felix make a mess of this room. Locus pulled his armor on slowly, methodically, listening for the sound of the door opening and the typical noise that came with Felix’s arrival. It was mid-afternoon now, past when his partner should have been barreling in and when his phone rang, Locus expected Felix.

It took him another minute to clasp the last piece of armor on, and in that time the phone had silenced. It rang again as he reached for it. Felix’s number, as he figured. He answered with, “You’re late.”

The voice that responded was deep, calm, and had Locus’s attention in an instant. “Hello, Locus.” It sounded filtered, disguised. “I won’t take up much of your time, provided you don’t make this difficult.” A pause. “We’ve captured your partner.”

Locus sighed. Another one of these. The last time someone had tried to hold Felix prisoner, he had slaughtered them and left the bodies to rot. Had only taken him four days, and Locus had told him to escape faster next time. He said, “If that’s true, put him on the phone.”

The voice denied that. Instead, there was another pause, wherein Locus could hear raised voices. After a moment, Felix’s cut through. “Is that Locus? Tell him to pay my tab at the bar! Didn’t have time to before this fuckhead hit me.” He was in the middle of telling Locus to expect him home in three days when his voice faded back.

The voice on the phone continued. “We will only hold him here as long as it takes for you to complete our objectives. If you complete those objectives in a timely fashion, he’ll be released… relatively unharmed.”

“I’m not doing your work for you,” Locus said flatly. If he concentrated, he could still hear Felix’s voice in the background. It was impossible to make out any words, but whoever these people were hadn’t bothered to gag him yet.

“We aren’t giving you an option, Locus. Listen to our orders, and your partner survives with as few injuries as possible. Disobey, and we will resort to more violent measures.”

Torture, in other words.

Locus said, “Who are you?”

He hadn’t expected an answer, and the one he got didn’t give much to go on. “Babylon.”

“...Babylon,” he repeated slowly. “If you’re going to hold him captive, I assume you mean to feed him. He’s lactose intolerant and allergic to peanuts. He also bit the fingers off the last man that tried to keep him against his will.” That was a bit of an exaggeration. As far as Locus knew, Felix had only bitten down to the bone. “Make sure he knows where you’re keeping his phone so he can contact me after he kills you.”

He hung up then, not wanting to hear whatever nonsense these people had in store. This was the third time in their partnership that someone had tried to capture Felix  - for ransom, or to force Locus to work for them for free. It must have something to do with how small Felix was and how innocent he looked. It usually meant that people were surprised by the violence and fire that burned in someone his size, and that led to their deaths. Hopefully, Felix would be quick with this one.

Locus left his phone at home when he left. He had a job today, one that was supposed to have been completed with Felix, but it was easy enough for him to handle on his own. Simple infiltration job that ended up with far more dead than was necessary - the place was filled with the typical hard-headed thugs that charged a man in armor. Locus took them out easily, got what he was there for, and was paid for his work before dinner time.

He stopped by the bar on the way home to pay Felix’s tab. The bartender there had been working last night, luckily, and said he could give a description of the man Felix left with. “Wouldn’t help much,” he added thoughtfully.

“...Why not?”

“ ‘Cause he was found dead early this morning, along with some other guy.” The bartender paused to pour a drink for someone before turning back to Locus. “Figured Felix must’ve killed them.”

Locus didn’t doubt that at all.

He made it home intending to cook dinner and go through his messages to see if there were any new jobs he could take. Preferably solo ones. He wasn’t going to pick up Felix’s slack just because the other merc had gotten carried off in the middle of the night.

The phone was ringing when he stepped through the door. Still ringing by the time he pulled his helmet off and reached for it. Felix - or, rather, ‘Babylon’. Second time that day. Locus answered it with, “You’re very insistent. Has Felix not managed to get loose yet?”

The person that answered was the same as before. “Your partner is being kept in handcuffs and has a guard assigned to watch him personally. There are men at the door to his room. We’re not foolish, Locus. We know how to keep a prisoner locked up.”

Locus expected this person to be at least a little annoyed that he had cut the call off earlier. He expected threats and curses, for them to once again indirectly threaten Felix as well. He expected them to mention what they wanted from him. This ‘Babylon’, they said, “I’m going to give you one more chance to take this seriously, Locus. But you don’t have to hear it from me.”

A brief pause, and then Locus was listening to Felix. This was different. The previous times, no one had let Felix talk at all. He sounded fine, if not a little breathless. “Hey, Locus, baby. Did you pay the bar? I like that place, I wanna drink there again when these idiots are dead.”

“It’s paid.”

“Good, good… Can’t wait to be back home. This place is shitty.” A voice in the background said something and Felix sighed. “Right. I’m supposed to tell you that you should agree to what they want from you. I don’t know how serious they are, ‘cause all they’ve done to me is lock me in a room with like four people. Not an orgy, sadly, just some assholes who cheated at CQC and decided to give me new bruises.”

“Did you let them win?”

“One of them hit me with a gun. Isn’t that bullshit?”

Cheating, he had said. Locus made a small noise of agreement, started to tell Felix to move things along faster, when the other voice was back. “This is your last chance,” they said. “Agree to work with us, and we won’t harm Felix. We’ll even keep him well fed for you.”

Locus said, “I am not going to work with you. Tell Felix I’ll see him in three days.”

“This is a disappointment…” they said slowly. “But not a surprise. We’ll be in touch, Locus.”

He ended the call before they had finished his name.

* * * * *

The person in charge slid Felix’s phone into their pocket, turning to face him. They had him sitting at a table in some dirty room, hands cuffed and resting in front of him. He had woken up in this room, had yet to leave this room, and also hadn’t been taken out of the handcuffs. Even when they let him fight earlier, his hands had been cuffed. Though calling it a ‘fight’ may be stretching it a bit. That had hardly been more than a beating and he was still aching in places they had hit especially hard.

But now there were hands on him, wrenching him to his feet. The chair he had been sitting in screeched along the floor as he stood. “Oh, hey, are we leaving? Goin’ somewhere fun?” he asked.

“Locus isn’t cooperating, sadly,” the man said. At least Felix thought it was a man. Just someone who wore military-grade armor - nothing like his or Locus’s, nothing made like theirs - but it was bulky, looked tough, and came complete with a helmet that hid their face and filtered their voice. “We’re going to have to change that. Take him to one of the interrogation rooms.”

The man that had been watching him, his ‘guard’, shoved Felix forward. “Is that code for torture room?” Felix asked lightly. “Are you finally gonna get to the big stuff?”

The Leader paused then, stopped the others with a raised hand. “Tell them to prepare the blowtorch.”

Felix frowned. “The what.”

“See if you can’t get him to shut up,” the Leader continued. They were leaving, walking stiffly across the room to the door. “Record it. Send the file to me.” And then they were gone, door closing behind them.

The guard that had his hands on Felix was laughing. “Hear that?” he said in a mocking voice. “This is where the fun begins.”

Felix considered snapping back, hitting the guy, but he was biding his time for now. Waiting to find a chance to find a way out of this fucking place - and if he was going to leave the room, now was a good time to start. There’d always be a chance for all the talking he wanted later. Preferably as he was slicing this guy to pieces.

The guard started to lead him out the door, hands still on his shoulders, squeezing tightly before relaxing and squeezing again. Somehow, that was gnawing at him worse than the blowtorch mention. Something about it was just so very uncomfortable. He was absolutely going to carve this guard to pieces. Just as soon as he found a way out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for physical torture, racial slurs, verbal abuse, and sexual assault.
> 
> (Anonymous Enabler: asshole. you're a star.)

Felix wished he could say he was experienced enough with this type of bullshit to expect anything, but these people acted like they knew just how to handle him. He had been led down blank hallways with glaring overhead lights, taking turns at what had to be random, until he was shoved into this room. Large, one wall almost covered entirely by a darkened window. There was a plain table in the room, steel by the looks of it, complete with restraints to keep someone down. To keep him down, judging by how the guard was pushing him toward it. A much smaller table sat near it, but there was only one thing on it.

Three other people were there, two in light grey, the other leaning against the wall on the opposite side. The ones in grey flanked him, took one of his arms each, and then his guard crossed in front of him and undid the handcuffs. In that one moment of freedom, he lunged. Got smacked in the face with the guard’s gun for his effort. Hadn’t even seen the fucker pull the thing out.

The two in grey lifted him without any trouble, laid him flat on the table, enlisted the help of his guard and the one by the door to hold him still and strap him down. It wasn’t easy to do when he was jerking free of hands every few seconds and aiming kicks and jabs with his elbows at whoever was nearest.

“Fuck, he’s a handful,” the extra guard said. Sounded breathless.

“He’s annoying,” his guard answered.

Both wore helmets. The two in grey didn’t. Made it real nice and easy to memorize their faces - one had a scar above his eye, the other had a goatee streaked with grey. Not a lot to go on, sadly. The one with the scar said, “Doesn’t matter.”

The older one said, “We’ll break him. Just like the others.”

It was a load of bullshit like none other Felix had heard. He told them so, but infuriatingly enough, they all ignored him. The guards fell back, and then both men in grey pulled on a mask, thick masks with clear visors. The older one reached for the smaller table and came back with the blowtorch as the younger one pulled his boots off.

It was then, with the older man firing short bursts on the blowtorch, that Felix thought that... no, nope, he did not expect this. He didn’t expect to actually be manhandled and tied down, talked over, ignored, and then burned until curses were flying out of his mouth. He pulled and fought the restraints and his guard only reached over and tightened each one. Someone held his legs down. When they stopped, his breathing was rough and shallow, pain drew tears to his eyes.

He could smell burning flesh and anger twisted in his gut.

They left him there for a while, and in the empty room, Felix had nothing to do but stare at the ceiling and try not to focus on the searing pain on both of his feet. So of course that’s all he could think about. It could have been hours later for all he knew when someone entered the room again. One of the guards, helmet obscuring their face. They didn’t speak to him, just undid the restraints and slapped cuffs back on his wrists.

Again, Felix was left to sit in a silent room. Only now he had the option to sit instead of lie on his back. He checked his feet first - burned raw flesh over both his heels. It would take time to heal, make it difficult to escape. He still would, but now it’d be a little tougher.

In the quiet, Felix sighed, “Fuck.”

It was late before they finally let him go. He was on the floor by then, sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and glaring at the door. He’d tried to move around the room, but with burned feet his options were crawling or standing on his toes. He had done both, and both were fine when he was the only one in the room, but he was positive they were watching him through cameras. Being watched while crawling on his knees wasn’t his idea of fun. He had done it just long enough to move to the small table where the blowtorch had been and pull himself up.

Assholes had left nothing behind. Nothing that would have helped him get out of the handcuffs. Nothing that would have worked for self defense. Which meant that Felix had wasted his time.

The person that came for him wasn’t his regular guard. Big and silent, they grabbed his arms and wrenched him to his feet, scraping his burned heels over the floor. Felix bit his cheek, his tongue, whatever he could to stop the cry that threatened to rise against the pain. He didn’t move, not until they made a move to sling an arm around his waist. He tried to fight then, shifting into a fighting stance - but that dragged his feet over the floor again, made the pain double, and he reacted too slowly to fend them off.

Felix was taken back to that dingy little room slung over the shoulders of this massive douchebag who wouldn’t say a word. There was a cot in the room now, shoved into the far corner and Felix was thrown onto it. His hands were still cuffed, feet still screaming with pain, and his first instinct was to reach up with both hands to try and shove his fists into their stomach as violently as possible.

The move was deflected, and then this person grasped one of Felix’s wrists and slammed it into the wall above his head. They spoke and for some reason, he found it familiar. “You’re going to be interesting. It’s always more interesting when a captive fights.”

Felix glared at the faceless helmet, the tinted visor. “Why don’t you let me out of these cuffs? We’ll see how interesting it is when I fight.”

No answer.

“I could beat you,” Felix said, “Or I could fuck you.” Or he could kill them, stab them, ride them while choking them and watching the life fade from their eyes. It was good to have options.

Then they were laughing, quietly. They let his wrist go, stepping back. Felix sat up instantly, throwing his feet over the sides of the cot. His toes brushed the cold floor and he wondered how good he would be at fighting with handcuffs on and burned heels. Not too well, he was sure. “You one of those big silent types?” he asked. “That’s alright. I’ve gotten your type to moan my name before. Wouldn’t be the last time.”

Still no answer. Whatever. Felix was good at taunting silent idiots. He raised his hands and stretched the cuffs as far as they would give. “C’mon, big guy,” he said, smiling. “Let me out. I’ll show you a good time. Want a blowjob? I can do that, no problem. Well… other than the handcuffs.” There was also his shitty gag reflex but seeing how he was more apt to bite their dick off than actually suck it, why mention it?

The person moved back to him then, just to take his face in one hand and angle it up. When Felix started to raise his hands again, they clamped their other on top of his, squeezing tight. “You are definitely going to be one of my favorites,” they said quietly. It was unsettling to hear and Felix couldn’t quite place why. “Though I will advise you to drop that behavior. Taunting your guards like that is not going to end well.”

“Those pathetic fucks don’t worry me,” Felix said. He pulled away from the hand on his face, glaring at them again. “You think I can’t fight those idiots just ‘cause your stupid leader had them burn me? I can fight anyone here and win. Easily.”

Maybe bragging wasn’t the best idea, not right now, but he couldn’t stop himself. The pain in his feet was too much and took almost of his concentration to ignore it. Which didn’t leave a lot of room for thinking before he spoke. Actually, it kind of made him want to scream out of frustration. A creeping sensation was crawling up his legs - restlessness, the need to move was growing and he couldn’t.  

Eventually, the person took several steps back again, crossing their arms over their chest and facing him. “Medics will come to help you,” they said. “Soon. I can’t have you dying here of infected burns, that would be a huge waste of my time and likely lead to your partner deciding to take revenge. I know how petty and possessive you two are.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I did my research, Felix.” That familiarity about this person was strengthening. They stood tall, shoulders set, head held high. An intimidating figure, and Felix hated it. “We will keep you alive,” they were saying, “If only to control Locus. I cannot promise your safety when I am not there to supervise, however. So I say again: Do not tempt the guards.”

He noted that change from taunting the guards to tempting them and didn’t like how his gut twisted in response. “If they’re tempted that’s hardly my fault. Can’t help it if you idiots think I’m so desirable.”

They didn’t answer leaving Felix to stare at them and hate how he couldn’t move from this cot without messing up his burns. The door swung open again and he flicked his gaze that way to see three people enter. One of the guards, followed by two others in grey. Each of them held a medkit in one hand. The guard looked at him, at the person before him, and then lowered their head slightly. All the guard said was, “Boss.”

The two others moved to Felix’s side, ignoring the guards. Or the guard and his Leader, apparently. Felix’s gaze focused back on them instantly, eyes wide and angry. The fucking gang’s Leader and all he had done was sit here and have a lovely chat with them. He was positive that if he took out them, the rest would scatter or become disorganized - something, anything that would lend to his escape. “You motherfucker,” he said quietly. One of the two in grey had gripped one of his feet, applying something to his heel that soothed it instantly. “What kind of gang leader comes to see a prisoner?”

Their answer was smug and Felix wanted to punch the glass of the visor down their throat. “I believe I can do as I wish. Especially when it concerns my captives.” Then, as the guard took a position up by the door, they reached up to undo the latches on the helmet and pulled it off. The Leader, he thought, was unfairly attractive. Dark hair, tanned skin, eyes that pierced through Felix like he was nothing. “Don’t put yourself at more risk than you already are,” they said. Without the filter of the helmet, their voice was smoother.

Felix had an idea to say something good, something memorable. All that came out was, “You absolutely sure you don’t want to take me up on that offer? One time only.” They smiled, like he was so amusing, and Felix added, “Hey, you did say I was yours. Take advantage of it, c’mon.”

“Fix up his feet,” they said to the two in grey. The medics, Felix realized belatedly. “Then leave. Find his regular guard, I have the feeling that man has fallen asleep in a breakroom somewhere.” They left without another word, handing the helmet in their hands to the guard by the door.

After that, Felix had no one left to mess with. The two medics ignored him when he tried to talk to them and the guard by the door only told him to shut up. When they were finished, Felix’s feet were wrapped in bandages from the arch of each foot to the ankle. The medics left, the guard after them, and the door shut with a heavy thud. The light overhead was bright enough that the dirty floor was obvious, along with the dingy walls and the stains in the ceiling. Other than Felix and his cot, there was just that table and chair they sat him at earlier. A door across from him led to a bathroom that he would have to crawl to now - pathetic, he thought.

He should be ashamed to even be brought to this point, sitting in a silent room with burned feet and handcuffs on. He should have beaten them when they caught him, when they dragged him in, when they had forced him to speak with Locus.

The next time they brought him out of this room, he promised himself he was going to fight. He was getting a weapon off of one of these men, and he was going to overpower all of them. If it caused him to worsen the burns on his feet, then so be it. It was this thought that got him through the night, through the hunger that settled in and the guard slamming his door open at random intervals and jolting him awake.

Felix slept, but not much, not enough. When they came for him the next time, it was two guards - the regular one and another - and each of them grabbed an arm when the handcuffs were taken off. Felix wrenched one loose, punched the one still holding him, and lunged when his arm was let go. His feet scraped on the floor and he ignored the pain, attacking the guard and not stopping until he was yanked back. He was beaten then, his guard aiming kicks for his stomach and his chest, actually stepping on one of his arms when he wouldn’t lie still.

The other guard simply ignored him lashing out until Felix was in a really strong chokehold. This guard applied pressure until Felix slowed, hands gripping the arm around his throat, breath escaping in shallow wheezes.

“Look here, you fuckin’ idiot,” his guard said. The man had knelt in front of Felix, reaching over to grip him by his hair. “You fight us, we beat you. You attack, I stomp your pathetic ass into the fuckin’ ground. Boss’s orders.”

Felix spat in the visor of the helmet the guard wore. The immediate response was one guard letting him go and, true to his word, the other stomped down on his chest. The air escaped his lungs and Felix was in the middle of aiming a punch at this asshole’s calves when the foot lifted. In its place, Felix was kicked in the face. His vision blurred momentarily, streaks of sharp pain lighting where the guard had connected.

The beating went on for a few more minutes, until Felix was breathing hard through split lips. The guards had yanked his hands behind his back and cuffed him again, pulling him to his feet.

“Time to have some more fun,” his guard said, pushing him forward. “Be a good little chink and cooperate.”

“I’m going to rip your eyes out and make you swallow them,” Felix said flatly.

“Yeah. I’m real scared of you.” There was a hand on his back then, pushing, ignoring the halting steps Felix was taking and urging him to go faster. “Since you’re too stupid to get it, I’ll spell it out for you. We have power, you don’t. I have a lot of power, you have none. So you better learn to behave.”

* * * * *

By the end of the second day, or what he assumed was nightfall, Felix was still in handcuffs. Since he had fought the guards who came for him, no one took them off again. They hadn’t done much to him today besides lock him in a room by himself, sitting in an uncomfortable chair and making faces at what he was sure was a two-way mirror. He wasn’t sure how long he had been in there but he hadn’t been given food and only once had someone brought in a water bottle and let him drink.

Once during that time, three men had come in. One had pulled him to his feet, another had yanked the chair away, and then all three of them had avoided his attempts to attack and laughed when he taunted and tried to bait them. It was a distraction, he guessed, for the fourth who had snuck in and pistol whipped him until his jaw had bled.

His arms ached and so did his sides, his ribs. His jaw was sore - very sore, very painful. A pistol in his face after being kicked in it wasn’t a fun way to spend the day. Right now, he was back in his room, sitting on his pathetic little cot and trying to ignore the throbbing in his feet as he fought against the handcuffs.

It wasn’t long before the door opened, and Felix had gotten nowhere in trying get out of the damn things. His wrists were burning now, though. The guard that entered was the same one that marched him everywhere, the same one that had given him water to drink. He could go with another drink now, actually. Too bad the guard had nothing in his hands.

Felix stared up at him, at the helmet that obscured his face just like all the others. Felix said, “What? You guys got more pathetic shit planned for me? Gonna move on to pulling my nails off and shit? Chop off my fingers and send them to Locus? You guys seem like the type to do cheap shit like that.”

The guard didn’t answer for a while, and when he did, his voice dripped of venom and resentment. “Don’t worry, whore. Just here to ask you a question.” He crossed the room as he spoke, stopping within grabbing distance of Felix. “See, a good buddy of mine said you were flirting with our leader.”

“That isn’t a question,” Felix said. “Maybe you should try again.”

The guard reacted instantly, reaching to the gun on his belt with one hand and grasping Felix by the collar of his shirt with the other. He had enough time to watch the gun being turned toward him before the guard was slamming it into the side of his face. “Shut the fuck up,” he snarled, “You flirted with our leader, didn’t you?”

Felix didn’t answer beyond a forced grin and then the guard shook him. “You said to shut up,” Felix said finally. “Only following orders.” The guard lashing out at him again wasn’t a surprise. This time, Felix moved quicker and slammed his head into the asshole’s throat. When the guard reeled back from that with a curse, Felix twisted out of his grip and kicked him in the gut with both feet. The flurry of dull pain in his heels was well worth the knowledge that he could still fight these fuckers off even with his hands bound.

It only took a few seconds for the guard to be standing tall again. The gun was still in his hand and Felix took the time to say, “What are you even going to do if I did flirt with your boss? You can’t defend yourself against a handcuffed prisoner.”

“Gonna need to learn the hard way, huh, you fuckin’ idiot?” the guard snarled.

Felix sat on the edge of the cot and smirked. “That was weak. Don’t you have any better insults?”

The guard reacted like he expected. Violently. The other man lunged for him and Felix threw himself to the side, avoiding the guard’s hands. He rolled right off the cot, landing on his back on the floor with a grunt. Before he could even move, the guard had stomped on his chest, keeping him pressed to the ground. He said, “You’re an arrogant fucker...” Felix grinned, nice and charming, and the foot on his chest pressed down harder. “Gonna enjoy what’ll happen to you. Do you know what we can do to you here?” When Felix started to answer, the guard knelt down to grab Felix by the collar of his shirt, pull him up a few inches just to slam him back down. “We could kill you here,” the man continued. “And no one would ever fuckin’ know.”

Pain had sparked where his head hit the ground and Felix ignored it. “Ohh, do go on,” he said, voice mocking. “Give me the dirty details.”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t for the guard to actually keep talking. “Could make it quick, just a bullet in your skull. But for an annoying fuck like you?” Here, he laughed and the sound grated down Felix’s spine. “I’d rather skin you alive. Flay you. Pull the skin off slowly, make you suffer.”

Felix raised his cuffed hands to the foot on his chest only to have the guard raise his leg just far enough to stomp on Felix’s fingers. Felix snatched his hands back quickly, scraping them against the bottom of the man’s shoes. He swallowed roughly, listening to guard go on and feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through him.

“Could make an example of you,” the guard said. “Show what happens when ignorant sluts get too sure of themselves. Hang your skin up like a goddamn decoration.”

Felix’s grin sprang up again. “You’re so sweet,” he said. “Gonna keep me forever? Such a thoughtful man...” Mocking the guard made it easier to ignore the arousal building.

“Shut up,” the guard growled. “I’d never keep you. I’d rather feed you to the dogs.”

“You should eat me yourself,” Felix suggested.

There was a pause then before the fucker started laughing. He straightened up then, only to start stomping on Felix’s chest, laughing at the cries of pain that Felix couldn’t stop from spilling out. Felix glared up at him, past the heavy boot pressing into his ribs, past the knife and the magnum clipped to the man’s belt, and right up to the blank face of his helmet. He hadn’t taken it off yet; not when he was watching Felix during the torture, not when he was beating Felix in the solace of this pathetic room.

The helmet’s voice filter made his voice rougher. Felix hated it. “You act like you’re so fuckin’ great,” he said. He raised his foot off of Felix’s chest just to nudge at his crotch. “But you’re nothing but a stupid filthy whore. All those fuckin’ taunts, and you’re hard from this.”

“What can I say? Imminent death is such a turn on.”

“You’re a disgusting piece of shit.” There was laughter in his voice even as he spoke. “But I’ll give you that one. You dying? Yeah, I get that. The only thing better than watching you die is going to be beating that fuckin’ smug ass look off your face.”

There wasn’t time to give a response to that. The guard had knelt down again, punching Felix in his face, his chest. He pulled the pistol from his side again just to slap Felix in the face with it; Felix felt blood on his face after that. There was a hand twisted into his hair now, keeping him from turning away. He tried to kick at the guard and the foot on his hardening dick pressed down - goddamn, he should definitely be ashamed how much he was responding to this. Could barely breathe, blood running into his eye now, and this asshole guard stepping on his dick was making warmth pool in his gut.

He could see his reflection in the guard’s visor - bruised and bloody, and when he stuck his tongue out, the silver stud was bloodied as well.

Bad move - the guard forced his fingers into Felix’s mouth instantly, groping, and Felix fought back against gagging. “Filthy whore, that’s all you are,” the guard said. “Wonder what you look like suckin’ dick? Bet it’d be an improvement. I’d stuff your noisy fuckin’ mouth and fuck your throat like the gutter slut you are.”

Felix bit down on the fingers in his mouth, not letting up when the guard cursed and started pulling. He let go only when the pistol in the guards hand landed on his cock, squeezing and twisting through his pants. Pain made him gasp, and the guard yanked his bloody fingers out. Not that they left Felix’s face, just latched onto his jaw while the guard thumbed at the piercings in his lip.

The guard was snarling at him and Felix found himself staring at the barrel of that goddamn pistol. "Fuck! You uppity bitch, I'll show you what happens when you bite.” He raised the gun, slapping it across Felix’s face with enough force to tear the skin. Three times, and when he stopped, Felix’s vision was blurred. “You’re gonna get bit right back with a fucking 38."

That was the only warning he got before the gun’s barrel was forced into his mouth. The snakebites slid across it easily - the tongue piercing did not and Felix wheezed out a painful curse as it tugged sharply. The guard was still spitting curses and insults at him, but all Felix could focus on was the pain in his tongue, the stud catching on the gun as the guard forced it deeper into his mouth.

He gagged around it, glaring up at the helmet of the guard. The barrel of the gun was being thrusted in and out of his mouth, making him gag worse each time. He could feel his stomach roiling, churning. Bile was rising in his throat, and still the guard forced it down deeper. He listened to this fucking asshole guard tell him that he was disgusting, filthy, that he deserved what he was getting and more. Seconds before he would have vomited all over the barrel, the gun was ripped out and slammed against one of his hips. Felix didn’t say anything; he drew in deep breaths, forcing the vomit back down. His tongue was sore, throbbing at where the jewelry had been pulled.

The guard wasn’t done taunting him, his free hand holding onto Felix’s face. “We’re gonna have some fun,” he said quietly. “Be nice and easy if you’ll behave.”

“Fuck off,” Felix wheezed. “You dick.”

“First,” the guard continued. His gloved thumb was prodding at the snakebites. “That attitude of yours has to go.” He let go of Felix’s jaw just to tug at the septum piercing. “Or I might slip up and pull this ring out.”

Felix tilted his head with the pressure on his piercing, considering all the many different ways he could kill this guard right then. He started to speak and the guard’s hand clamped down over his mouth.

“Second…” That faceless helmet was really starting to piss Felix off. Couldn’t see through the visor but he could hear the arrogance as the guard kept talking. “Your arrogance. Bit of a problem for a prisoner to be such an arrogant chink, don’t you think?”

Felix jammed a knee into the guards crotch - fucker was kneeling over him, he deserved it - and the hand slipped off his face. A moment later, the gun was slammed back in his mouth. The guard went back to the same thing. Finger on the trigger, threatening to shoot, thrusting it in and out and ripping at the piercing each time. Painful tears pricked at the edges of Felix’s eyes but he refused to let them fall. Refused to do much other than scrunch his face up and glare. He couldn’t stop the gagging that seized his body each time the gun slammed back into the back of his throat.

Couldn’t stop the bile rising and his body lurching. Couldn’t stop himself from puking - or from the gags that resulted from the vomit pooling in his throat around the gun barrel.

The guard cursed, yanking the gun out. “You fuckin’ disgusting little cunt,” he snarled. “Puke on yourself.” He seized Felix by his hair, yanking him forward so that the next retch spilled the vomit over his pants. Watery vomit, filled with bile. It burned his throat, made him feel like he was shaking. Burned and stung around the piercing.

Felix choked out, “Did I ruin your precious gun…?” and the guard smacked him across the face with it. Left trails of vomit on his cheek. He sat there on his knees, hands still behind his back, breathing heavily. The gun was being wiped over a clean section of his pants before it was dropped to the floor and the guard was moving.

He ended up behind Felix but before he could say anything, a hand clamped over his mouth. Didn’t seem to mind the drying blood and fresh vomit his fingers touched as he gripped Felix’s face. He felt the guard pressing against his back and tried to do something - anything - with his bound hands. Heard him say, “You wanna be a little whore? Flirt with the Boss? Fine with me. We’ll make you nothin’ else.”

Then there was a hand on his crotch, pressing against his erection. Fingers traced over his cock and Felix struggled against the guard’s grip. “You puked and you’re still hard,” the guard said, laughing. “Got your whore mouth fucked with a gun. Still hard.” He moved his hand from Felix’s mouth to his throat, squeezing hard; Felix bucked his hips on reflex, snarling a curse, and the guard was still laughing.

The hand that pushed into his pants and gripped his cock was calloused and rough. The strokes were little more than violent tugs, the guards’ hand flying over Felix’s cock. Fast, hard, pulling and twisting. “You little slut,” the guard growled, voice close to his ear. “Dick piercings? Really? Not surprised, if you really want to know the truth.”

He didn’t, and he didn’t like that this jackass was pulling at those piercings either. It didn’t feel good; pretty much the opposite. The fingers on his cock made his skin crawl. The guard went back to pumping his cock, harder and faster than before, and the whole time, Felix was insulted. The guard said he was disgusting, a whore. He came even though the motion on his dick was hard enough to hurt.

The guard pulled his hand from Felix, wiping it down Felix’s thigh. The other one was still gripping Felix’s throat tightly. “Feel good about yourself, whore?” he asked. His hand squeezed tighter, making the retort building in Felix’s throat die. “You should. I’m giving you exactly what you wanted.”

“Didn’t ask you to touch me,” Felix choked out. “Do it again… and I’ll cut off your fingers.”

“You don’t remember?” The guard let him go then, shoving him face first into the floor. “When we first picked you up, you wanted to fuck all three of us.” His hand was twisted in Felix’s hair, body bent over him. “Little drunken Asian slut, trying to seduce three men in an alley. All I’m doing now is giving you want.” His voice was low, and he pressed himself up against Felix, grinding slowly against him. The sense of dread built in Felix as he lay there, feeling the man’s erection rub against him. “You’re lucky I don’t fuck you right now.”

“Do it,” Felix snapped. “I’ll break your fucking dick in half.” He had the vaguest memories of what this guard was hinting at, of drinking and dragging a rather nice-looking man away. Of people attacking him. “Already did it to your pal, if I remember right.”

The guard laughed, grinding against Felix still. “Yeah… You did.”

There was an underlying note of anger there, just below the surface, and Felix steeled himself for another beating. It made sense. Anger the guard, get beaten. Fight back. Steal the gun. It’d be easy since his hands were still in front of him. Handcuffed or not he could do it.

Instead of a beating, the guards let him go - for an instant. The next second, the guard was yanking his pants down his thighs. Felix’s eyes widened briefly before he shot a glare over his shoulder. “What, you actually gonna do it?” he said, pushing himself up on his hands.

“Shut up, whore,” the guard said. He pushed Felix back down with one hand. “I’m not sure you deserve that yet.”

That was absolute bullshit. The guard pressing against Felix was even more bullshit, but before he could move, Felix felt the barrel of a pistol burying into his neck.

“You move, I shoot.” Pretty clear even without the guard speaking. “Just shut up and stay still. Be over before you know it.”

There was an arm wrapped around his waist, holding on tight, keeping him still. Felix stayed where he was, feeling the guard’s cock on his ass, teasing at his hole. Never entering him (thank fucking God for small favors), but still moving. The guard moved slow, at a steady pace, rutting against Felix’s ass. The longer it went on, the angrier Felix got, until he was glaring at the far wall and visualizing himself ripping the insides out of this guard.

After a while, the man said, “You got a nice ass, whore,” and Felix tensed with rage. The only thing that stopped him from speaking was the gun still pressed against his neck.

He felt the guard cum. Beyond the hand tightening on him and the disgusting noise the man made, he came on Felix’s ass. The guard laughed breathlessly and the gun falling from Felix’s neck. “Don’t worry,” he said, pushing away. He slapped Felix’s ass and squeezed. “Maybe next time you’ll get to be fucked. Make good use of you.”

Felix pushed himself onto his hands, glaring at the guard behind him. “I’m - “

“Gonna kill me?” the guard interrupted. He was putting himself away, standing. “Yeah, real frightened of you.” He paused, kicking Felix in his bare ass. “Go ahead, cover yourself up. Try to sleep. You pathetic little cock whore.”

Then he left, slamming the door on Felix trying to pull his pants up with cuffed hands. He felt the man’s cum on his skin, such a disgusting feeling that it left him squirming and scowling at the ceiling. All he could think was that with his cuffed hands, there wasn’t a way to reach behind him and clean it off.

* * * * *

There was a video file on Locus’s phone by mid-morning. Felix had been gone a day and whoever had him was sending Locus videos.

He ignored it for most of the day. There were things he had to do: find work, secure details on upcoming jobs. He had considered telling the clients who paid for both Felix and himself that his partner wouldn’t be there, and eventually decided against it. If he couldn’t handle a job on his own then he was getting far too dependant on Felix being around and the time without him might do a little good.

There were other things too, not relating to work, like grocery shopping and enjoying the quiet without having to worry about anything.

He checked the video late in the afternoon, after he had eaten. For a while, he considered not watching it at all. It had come from Felix’s phone. A message from ‘Babylon’ and whatever they had to say, Locus really wasn’t interested.

There was no rush where this was concerned. If there was anything Felix could do just fine, it was killing people who underestimated him. Anyone that tried to hold Felix hostage were usually the worst, the ones that thought he was too small to cause much harm. Those groups were the ones who assumed Locus was the dangerous one of the two - which was ridiculous. He and Felix stood on equal footing in their partnership. There was also the fact that Felix was more apt to brutalize anyone who dared to capture him. Locus, at least, might make their deaths quick.

Locus opened the video after a few seconds of frowning at it. Partly out of curiosity, partly to get rid of the unread message notification. The screen was so dark when the video started that Locus thought at first that there was some kind of error. Problem with the video file, maybe.

It lightened just as a voice started speaking. The same heavily filtered voice that Locus had heard on the phone. “Locus. I want you to understand that this could have been avoided.” The person in the video was alone on screen, left no way for their body type to be clear and obvious. They wore a helmet with a golden visor. “I gave you a chance and you refused.”

The picture changed, steadying on a clean room, on a shot of uniformed men strapping Felix onto a table. There was no sound, at least not from this video capture. Still just that person, their voice telling Locus that this was only the start of what they would do to gain his loyalty. The sound for what he was watching cut in then, perfectly edited to mix with that voice until Locus was watching two men don protective gear. He could even hear the sound of the torch one of them held.

It was Felix, though, that drew his attention. He wore no shoes, the others in the video ignored him - and then Locus was watching one man lower the flame to Felix’s feet. He watched Felix’s body jerk, watched him fight, and then heard him scream curses.

His first thought was that there was no way Felix could break out of there alone. Not if his feet were burned like that. The second was that he would have to track down Felix.

He was already thinking about how to help Felix without it being obvious when the person started speaking again. “You will help us,” they said. “Every day that passes without your assistance, I’ll harm Felix. It will get worse - I hope that’s clear. This… Burning Felix? I can do a lot more, and I can make it worse.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow afternoon to call back.” The video hadn’t moved from Felix, showing him lying there. He wasn’t being burned, but wasn’t making a move to get off that table or fight the restraints he was in. Over that image, the voice kept talking. “You can call us on your partner’s phone. I’m holding it for him so I’ll notice if you call ...and if you don’t.” A pause. Then the video started to fade. “One day, Locus. I will not harm Felix unless I don’t hear from you. Your choice.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for physical torture, verbal abuse, gore and blood, and rape. Read at your own risk.

Babylon proved to an illusive organization. By word of mouth or through online sources, Locus worked to dig up whatever he could instead of calling the bastards back. Figuring out who exactly he was up against was far more important than humoring them, at least for the moment. There was one small problem: researching was difficult with only a name to go by, and whatever information he found was contradicting. He found accounts of Babylon men and women - referred by agents on this particular website - who had defended towns from bandits, offered help to to anyone in need. Stories that painted this Babylon as being made up of people that were helpful and friendly.

And then there a staggering amount of extortion, murders, smuggling, gang wars. Most of those stories Locus heard from other mercenaries who had run into these people. From what he was able to piece together, Babylon started as a small gang almost ten years ago and somehow, during a few short years, that gang had grown from small time crimes to organized and heavily planned, perfectly executed operations. One mercenary said, “Got caught up in some bullshit with them. They fucked up one of my jobs, took the kill themselves, took over the whole goddamn thing.”

That job, the merc had said, was to eliminate the head of a crime family. Take out the leader, get out without being caught. She had gotten there to find three people standing there in a room with a corpse. People that were on a call with their boss, that tried to attack her and take her out the instant they were ordered to do so. This was something that Babylon had been planning to do, something that they managed to do before this mercenary.

It wasn’t the one occasion either. Apparently Babylon rose so quickly by conquering other criminal networks, gangs and the like. There was a story online that spoke highly of Babylon for uprooting a long-standing gang war and then staying in the town to ensure the peace. A piece on a crime lord in a city who had been murdered ...and the murderer was found to be a member of Babylon.

Any piece of information Locus found took place in another city, another town. All miles away from one another, some as far as hundreds of miles as the others. He found names of members, photographs of groups wearing uniforms of grey and black or tans and browns. The symbol of a tower within a circle was on jackets, buildings. There were even copies of fliers and advertisements that requested workers for mundane jobs with this symbol at the top.

The one thing he couldn’t find about Babylon was the leader of the entire organization. There were no pictures of them, no name, no information beyond a basic summary from one mercenary. “Dunno about the face,” the merc had said, “but he was tall. Almost your height. Wore a uniform like the others. Killed my partner, let me go ‘as a warning’. Giant prick, that one was.”

Useless information. Locus had frowned at the man, a look that the helmet shielded. If the leader of this organization dressed like their workers, then it would be difficult to figure out which one they were. A problem that was only slightly lessened by the discovery of photographs of a person in armor. Dark grey and blue, a full suit of military grade armor, similar to what he and Felix wore. In a few photographs, this person was flanked by four others in Babylon uniforms, two of which held military issue rifles. In others, they were alone, standing by a corpse.

None of the photographs had captions. There was no information beyond a header at the top of the page that read ‘Leader of Babylon’s criminal empire’.

It was, all in all, not a good way to spend the day. With no concrete information to go on other than Babylon being involved in every sort of crime imaginable, there was nothing. No way to pin down a main base of operations. No way to discern the identity of the armored person in those photographs.

It didn’t matter. With or without clues, Locus had to find out where these people had taken his partner. Waiting for Felix to break himself out was no longer an option; not when Locus saw Felix being burned so clearly when he closed his eyes.

There was a GPS tracker in both his and Felix’s phone, a precautionary measure that had been used sparingly in the past. Locus could find it easily, through his own phone or through his computer if necessary. The phone was the easier option and as he watched the tracker search, he thought that he could offset the inevitable anger Felix would feel at having to be rescued by letting him murder Babylon’s leader. Taking down a criminal empire should be enough to make him happier. Hopefully, anyway.

On the tail end of that thought, Locus’s phone came up with an error. He frowned, straightened in his chair, and ran the process again. Another error. No location found. Not even a trace of Felix. Which meant that, for once, there was someone who had managed to disable the GPS feature without resorting to breaking the phone itself.

That was going to be a problem.

Locus looked from his phone to his computer. One held an error message, the other showed that encircled tower, the symbol of Babylon. It stared at him, taunting, as if it knew that he was back to square one. Nothing to do but search and dig and scrounge up any details he could find on these people.

He sighed, standing and reaching for his helmet. He had been home just over an hour, long enough to eat and attempt to track down Felix. The images on his computer screen had been there since that morning, before he had left to ask around every mercenary hangout he could find. The day had been long, barely cracking nightfall now, and he couldn’t stop thinking that he had gotten nowhere. How the hell a criminal organization had managed to stay so invisible was going to haunt him until he found a trail to follow.

The phone rang in his hand just as he lifted the helmet from the table. Locus paused before grabbing it, staring at the ID, at Felix’s name. He answered and said nothing, listening instead to the voice on the other line.

Babylon’s leader, reprimanding him for not following their orders. “I gave you a simple task,” they said. “You do understand that, don’t you, Locus? Call me back. Save your partner from further harm. I really do hope it is isn’t too difficult for you to follow simple orders all the time.”

“What do you want?” Locus said.

“Your assistance,” they said, “Or perhaps it would be better to say your participation. I have a plan, and it requires you to help me complete it.”

“I’m not going to work with you.”

The person on the other line sighed. “Honestly, Locus, do you want me to cut off limbs? I’d rather not have to stoop that low.”

Locus had the sudden, very vivid image of receiving body parts through the mail. It was absurd, far-fetched. No one in their right mind would actually mail body parts. “If you wanted my assistance,” he said, “then you should have paid for it.”

“Why pay when I could get it for free?” The sound of a door opening carried through the phone, along with curses and mingled voices. “I promise you, if you do all that I ask of you, you will have your partner back. If you wait too long, he’ll be in terrible shape.”

Locus didn’t answer. He listened to the voices on the other line, shouts and insults that became clearer slowly. Unfamiliar voices that only quieted when they were told to by the person on the other line. The Leader of this gang could control their forces with one word. They said, “Quiet,” and a moment later: “Let him go. Looks like I need him to talk some sense into his reluctant partner.”

The next thing he heard was Felix, breathing hard. “Locus?” He paused just long enough for Locus to say that yes, it was him. “Course it’s you. Who else would these dickbags call? Look, man, when I get outta here - “

“I know you were burned,” Locus interrupted. He heard Felix trail off into a low, annoyed hum. “They sent a video, Felix. You’re in no shape to escape on your own, and do not say otherwise.”

A pause. Someone in the background of the call was talking, low words that Locus could decipher. “Come and get me then,” Felix said finally. “I can escape but - “ Then he was cut off with a sharp exhale and a curse.

“Felix?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Some asshole took a cheap shot.”

Locus stared at the wall in front of him, grip tightening where he held his helmet with one hand. He thought of Felix, strapped to a table and burned; he thought of Felix saying the guards had ‘cheated’ at CQC, how out of breath he sounded now. It didn’t take too much to connect things. “Don’t encourage them,” he said quietly. “If they’re beating you, don’t give them a reason to.”

“I can handle it,” Felix said. “You just ...you work on things from your end.”

Locus started to talk again, to tell Felix that there was no point in making things worse, when the voice of that Leader distracted him. It was quieter: “Tell him what we talked about, Felix,” they said. “You should know what happens if you don’t.”

“Fuck off,” Felix answered. “Having a conversation here.”

Locus sighed. Whatever it was they were talking about, he couldn’t imagine it ending well for Felix, but naturally he was going to fight. He could have told Felix again not to make things worse, but it would have been a waste of breath. Instead, he said, “Don’t let them break bones, Felix,” and was rewarded with a quiet laugh. “It’ll be that much more trouble to get you out if something is broken.”

Felix was still laughing, and it would have been nice to hear if the sound wasn’t growing fainter. Felix was gone, and what he heard next was a simple command - “Beat him,” - and anger flared in his gut. Locus stood there, glaring at the wall before him, listening to the sounds of Felix cursing and grunting. By the time their Leader was speaking to him again, Locus’s anger was burning.

“I had hoped,” they started, “that Felix would have cooperated. It seems he is just as difficult as you are.” A sigh. “I’ll have to work on that, but don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

Locus said nothing.

They didn’t seem to notice his silence. “Since you won’t agree to my terms, I assume that Felix has been left in my care. Currently, his guards are taking to treating him as if he is a toy - and trust me, Locus, I don’t like it at all. But I am going to break that attitude of his and if beating him is what it takes…”

“Keep your hands off of him,” Locus growled.

“If you work with us, then absolutely. Otherwise... well, what will I have to work with?” It sounded like they were laughing at him and Locus hated it. “I highly doubt you’ll be willing to listen to me if I have Felix in a comfortable room where he’s waited on hand and foot. Have some common sense, Locus.”

He refused to work with these people and was very close to reminding them of that fact.

They said, “Work with me and save Felix. Or refuse and know you’re responsible for everything that happens to him.”

The line went dead before Locus had a chance to respond. He lowered the phone slowly, glaring at the screen as the call length blinked back at him. Everything that happened was his fault. It was all he could think now as he pocketed the phone and pulled his helmet on. There had to be a way to find Felix that didn’t end with Locus working for his captors.

Locus left his apartment fully armored, prepared to spend the entire night working. He would spend as long as he had to unearthing information on this Babylon organization, search the entire planet for them if he had to. Anything to find Felix before those assholes did something irreversible.

* * * * *

There was a theme here that Felix was quickly figuring out. Mainly, the guards were assholes and he was beaten for saying even a single word. So what if the one word he had said today was calling a guard a disease ridden fuck? He would have said more if they hadn’t started another beating. It was tiring, this repetitive theme, and Felix ached. There were bruises over chest and stomach, a few spotting over his biceps where the guards liked to hold him still and let the others aim punches at his gut.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Felix could get sleep but these asshole guards were hellbent on keeping him awake. He was pretty sure he had spent the past night sleeping in bouts of twenty or thirty minutes before someone slammed the door open or actually came up to his bedside to harass him.

So, he was tired, and bruised, and really pissed off.

Today they hadn’t even bothered to take his from his room. Two guards entered, both wearing helmets and not saying a thing. Silence didn’t stop them from attacking him, wrenching him off the shitty little cot and yanking his hands behind his back. His feet were still bare, scraping across the floor as he was pushed and pulled around; he had no idea where his shoes went, but he clearly wasn’t getting them back. One guard handcuffed him and the other hit and both of them ignored everything he said. If these assholes had dared to come at him when his hands were free, Felix would have destroyed them both.

The guards didn’t stop until their Leader marched in the room and ordered them to, and then they just shoved him forward. He stumbled, scowling at the person in front of him. The Leader wore no helmet and smiled at him as they held the phone up to his ear. He had to talk to Locus with this prick standing close to him, still smiling at him.

It took seconds for Felix to realize that Locus was worried, and that made his breath stutter. There wasn’t a need to worry about him. He had this totally under control. One of the guards managed to bend his cuffed arms at a painful angle the instant he said something about escaping, but that was alright.

The Leader only had to look at the guards and Felix was released. They brought their other hand to his face, cupping his cheek and angling his face to look up at them. It was strange enough without their smile, or how they stroked a gloved thumb over the bruises under his eye.

Strange, but he could handle it. Just ignore them and keep talking to Locus. Real easy.

Until they took the phone away, stepped back from him, and then one guard was holding him steady while the other one aimed punches at his stomach. The guards ignored his insults and cursing, and the Leader ignored all of them. He could hear them talking and knew it was about him, but every word they said didn’t seem to stick in his head. He was so focused on snarling at the guards and resisting any show of pain that he didn’t even notice that they weren’t on the phone anymore.

Not until a hand landed on his shoulder. He glanced over at the Leader; they had stopped smiling but the way they looked at him wasn’t much better. Judging, haughty, eyes skating over his face. “I think he’s had enough for now,” they said. The second the guard released him, their hand slid to the base of his neck, fingers spreading over his skin. “Come with me, Felix. I’ll need your guard as well, whichever one of you two that is…?”

The one that spoke was the one that had held him still. “Right here, Boss,” the man said, raising one hand in a mock salute. “What d’ya need?”

“Handcuff keys, mostly,” they answered. They were already leading Felix away by the hand on him, the one they had slid around to the back of his neck, squeezing lightly.

“Ohh, am I getting out?” Felix said. He threw a glance at the guard following them and grinned. “Sure you wanna do that? That pathetic guard of yours is going to get his ass destroyed as soon as I’m free. And that’s a promise - really, I mean it.”

The three of them passed through the door to his room, and the guard tilted his head down toward Felix as they entered the hall. Maybe it was supposed to be a threatening gesture but all Felix did was watch the glare of an overhead light slide over the visor’s surface. Not much to see when the prick was still wearing that helmet.

“Don’t taunt him, Felix,” the Leader said quietly. Their hand squeezed his neck again in a manner that was almost reassuring.

“It’s not a taunt. It’s the truth.” He was being led the same way as before, he was sure of it. Same bland hallways, same ‘random’ turns, same everything. He had the thought that if this hall was so bland and boring and unremarkable, then how would he be able to tell if they went in a different direction? There was no way to figure out a mental map of this place as much as he hated to admit it.

The room they took him to was just like the previous one. One of those steel tables with restraints, complete with the smaller one set up beside it.  There was something sitting on the smaller of the two tables; it was plugged into the wall and the Leader left Felix with the guard to walk over and reach for it. With their back to the two at the door, they said, “Take the handcuffs off. Strap him down.”

The guards’ hands landed on his. He heard the key moving in the lock as the guard leaned down. “You can attack me if you want,” he said quietly. “I sure as hell won’t mind beating your fuckin’ ass into the floor. Show Bossman that I can handle you. Keep my job.” One handcuff popped free. The guard kept his hand on Felix’s wrist, keeping him still. “And then I can stop by again later. Maybe give you what you really want.”

His other hand slid down Felix’s hip and back up, fingers dipping past the waistband of his jeans. Felix glared daggers into the Leader’s back, fists clenched and shoulders taunt. The guard was easing his entire hand into Felix’s pants, laughing quietly. “You gonna let me out of these things?” Felix said. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t want to piss off your boss.”

“If Boss wasn’t here,” the guard said, “I’d fuck you right now.” He pulled his hand out of Felix’s pants just as the Leader glanced over their shoulder, focusing on the handcuffs again. “Could throw you over that table. Fuck you like the little whore you are.”

Whatever the fuck that meant.

He wasn’t going to ask. The second his other hand was free, Felix yanked away from the guard and spun, aiming for the man’s throat. Less protected there, easy target. The man sidestepped though and then Felix was snagged from behind. He didn’t look away from the guard, glaring as the hands on his arms ran up to his shoulders.

“Don’t be violent,” the Leader said. Their voice was soft, insistent, like every word was an order in itself. “It’s not necessary.”

Felix only tore his eyes from the guard when the Leader turned him around and started pushing him to the table. “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s not do whatever sick shit you have planned and instead, we can partner up and kill that prick of a guard.”

The Leader only laughed, quiet. “Felix, please. The violence needs to stop,” they said. They had him at the edge of the table now and Felix looked past it to what was lying on the other one. He had no idea what it was, but it was something that was nearly orange at the top. Something hot. He could use it, shove it right into the eye of the fucker holding onto him, hear and smell their burning flesh instead of his own-

But he didn’t. The Leader snapped their fingers and the guard came, and together the two of them lifted Felix onto the table. He fought, struggling against both of them, but the Leader was stronger than he had thought. They held him down, the guard tightened the straps over his arms, even cincing one over his chest. When he reached for Felix’s legs, the Leader shook their head.

Felix glared at both of them, glancing between the guard as he backed up to the wall and at the Leader as they reached forward and swiftly undid the pants. Felix paused, eyebrows raised. “Are you gonna fuck me?” he asked. When the Leader looked up at him, he smiled, nice and charming. They were still attractive, sharp gaze and angled face. The skin of their neck was as tan as their face and Felix allowed himself just a moment to wonder if they were that tan all over. “This my punishment?”

The Leader said nothing, only started to pull his pants down. He heard the guard grumbling things and ignored it to nudge one leg against the Leader’s arms. He didn’t really know what to expect here, especially when his pants were pulled off completely and tossed to the ground. They slid their hands over his thighs then, slowly, eyes focused on what they were doing, and Felix smirked. It’d be better if they weren’t wearing those gloves but the touch was cool on his skin and he welcomed that right now.

He would fuck them, sure. If they wanted to have him in front of this guard, he was alright with that.

Did not explain why he was strapped down, unless they were into this sort of thing. Which he could also work with.

They brushed the boxers he wore higher on his left thigh. “I really do want you to keep my advice in mind,” they said. They weren’t looking at his face, but watching their own thumb rub circles into his thigh. “About the violence, I mean. The more you act out, the worse we have to treat you.”

“Your guards touch me, I fight back,” Felix said. He really wished they’d just grab his dick already. “Maybe they should learn that.”

“I’m looking out for your safety,” they said.

“I can do that myself, actually.”

The Leader released him then, reaching across him to grasp what lay on the other table. They nodded for the guard then, ordering him to come and hold down Felix’s legs. The man’s hands dug into his calves and Felix frowned.

“What the fuck is this?” he said, trying to pull his leg loose.

The Leader smiled at him then. “Stay still,” they said. “There’s only one chance here. See, Felix, this is an electric branding iron.”

The frown melted off his face and Felix stared at them, something like dread creeping up his spine.

“I have given your partner more than enough time to agree to work with me,” they continued. “As of today, you are officially my property.”

Felix could only say, “What the fuck?”

The Leader was lowering the iron to his leg, slowly. “I think it’ll be beneficial for us both,” they said softly. “If you’ll just heed my advice... “ They sighed, and Felix felt the heat from the iron as they paused with it just barely off of his thigh. They gave him another long look, smiled at him, and said, “Scream for me, Felix.”

He promised himself instantly that he wouldn’t but then they pressed the branding iron onto his skin and Felix’s curse of “Fuck you” rose into a pain-filled groan. It would have been a scream if he hadn’t wrenched his jaw shut. He jerked, both at the hands holding him down and the burning of the iron. It seared, white hot, so bad it blurred his vision and turned his breathing shallow. Every muscle in his body tensed, every instinct urged him to move.

The burning didn’t stop, the pained only increased.

Felix screamed. He screamed and it was full of pain and frustration, and ended in stuttered curses. It was possible he blacked out at some point, but he hoped not. The blank then from the pain and the smell of his own flesh burning again to the absence of the branding iron (but the persistence of the pain, nonstop, pulsating and searing). That could be explained. Anything but him passing out from pain.

There were voices while he laid there, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t fighting the binds he was in, only wishing that someone would make the pain stop.

One voice said, “Do you… do you do this to every prisoner?”

A second answered, “No.” A hand landed on his thigh and Felix made a pathetic noise he would never admit to making. Fingers brushed his burned flesh. “Only for special captives. You need to make sure you take good care of him, Walker.”

“No problem, Boss.”

The fingers brushed his flesh again and Felix bit his lip to stop himself from making another sound. Had to be the Leader touching him. They said, “It’s perfect. Never came out so clear before.”

Which made the other the guard. Felix closed his eyes, hating the weakness he felt at the pain still dominating his mind. In that moment, he wanted nothing else but to sleep. The pain was terrible, the Leader’s hands on him were somehow worse, and that guard’s voice when he spoke was grating.

“What now?”

“Call for the medics.” Their hand left his leg and Felix exhaled slowly. The relief was short lived because they were in his line of sight in a second, hands on his face. Their thumbs ran under both his eyes. “It’s alright, Felix,” they said, voice so quiet he barely heard it. “That’s the worst of it. You’ll be fine.”

Felix’s response was weak. “Go fuck yourself.”

They acted as if they hadn’t heard him. “I won't hurt you like that again,” they said.

Felix ignored them, closing his eyes and turning his head away until their hands fell from his face. He wanted to sleep, but that was impossible, so he settled for feigning it. Maybe he’d be left alone if everyone thought he had actually passed out. It worked out well enough. He opened his eyes when the medics entered, closing them again as they laid their hands on his leg. On the burn, the brand, whatever. Something they applied to the skin there stung like mad and he tensed all over again.

The medics left and the Leader pulled all the straps off before grasping Felix’s shoulders and pulling him forward. There wasn’t anyone else in the room but the two of them. Felix did wonder where the guard had gone, but that guy was a gigantic fucking dick, so he wasn’t bothered by it. There was a bandage over his thigh, and Felix frowned at it, then at the Leader.

They had picked his pants back up from the floor. “Your clothes are filthy,” they said casually.

For once, he wasn’t in the mood to talk, especially not to this fucker. And yet, he did anyway. “Gonna give me new ones?”

The Leader held the pants out to him. There was blood stains at the end of one leg, streaks on the other that could only be his own cum from the other day. Now that he remembered it, the things that guard had done to him made him angry again. It was nothing compared to the pain he still felt, but it was enough that he glared at his pants as he took them from the Leader. “I want new pants at least,” he said.

“I’ll think about it.”

Evidently, Felix wasn’t moving fast enough for them because they tried to help him into the pants. He shoved them away, still glaring at the dirty clothes he was pulling on. “Either I get new pants now,” he said, “or I steal some later. After I break out. I can rip them right off someone, crack their skull open if I need them.”

They watched as he winced sliding the fabric over the bandage. “No one in this base is your size,” they said. “I believe the shortest is at least five inches taller.”

That meant a breakout with no pants. Alright. Fine.

The instant he slid off the table, he cringed, fighting the urge to scream again. He didn’t think it would hurt that much, it wasn’t on his feet, it wasn’t deep enough to make walking hard. Could be moving in general, or the persistent dull pain of his heels mixing in to make it worse. Whatever it was, the walk back to his room was horrible. The Leader pushed him along, hand on his shoulder. His hands were cuffed in front of him now, tight.

When he got back to the room, Felix sank onto the shitty cot and tried to find a way to lay that didn’t make his leg hurt so badly. The Leader didn’t stay in the room with him, and for a while he laid there silently, staring at the ceiling. There were stains on the ceiling, right above the cot. Wrapped up the dirty room vibe nicely.

Dirt, dust, stains in the ceiling, and this was where he was stuck. Until Locus found where here was, or he broke out himself. Hopefully the latter still held true; he never was a fan of being rescued.

Lying there, Felix could feel exhaustion setting in. Sleep wasn’t exactly something he had been getting a lot of in the few days he’d been there. It wasn’t easy now either, no matter how many times he tried. The lights were still on, for one thing, bright enough to disturb him even with his eyes closed. If it wasn’t the lights, it was the pain shooting up his leg everytime he moved. It seemed impossible, but he must have dozed off at some point.

He opened his eyes to someone yanking on his arms, pulling his hands over his head. It only took a moment for him to notice that one of his hands was free from the handcuffs, but that this fuck leaning over him was holding onto his wrist so tightly that it didn’t matter. Staring down at him was a man with one hell of an ugly scar scrawled across his face, stretched from under one eye and across the bridge of his nose, nearly to the corner of the man’s mouth. He caught Felix’s eye and a twisted grin cut across his face.

Felix started to lunge forward, ready to throw his legs up and maybe knee the guy in the head. The explosion of pain was instantaneous with the first shift of his leg and Felix froze, clenching his jaw shut to stop the sharp cry of pain in his throat. He was so concentrated on quelling the burning pain that he didn’t think to do anything about the handcuff locking around his wrist again.

“Good that you’re awake,” the man said. His voice was rough and Felix glared at him. “Make things more fun this way.” This man was Felix’s guard, he could tell by the voice. He had left the scar on the man’s face, he was sure, and it was easily the most distinctive feature the man had. White with brown hair and blue eyes wasn’t much to go on.

Felix yanked his arms and got nothing but the soft clang of the handcuffs on metal. “What the fuck is this?”

The guard’s grin widened. “Can’t have you gettin’ loose.” He leaned back from Felix, smacking one hand close to where the brand was burned into his skin. Felix growled a response, a curse mingled with a low whine. “See, the Boss, he left. Had some other things to take care of. Left you in my care, and that means that I have to watch you every day.”

Which meant tying him down? Felix flexed his arms, pulling, but there was still no give. The guard was walking away from him, back toward where the table stood, still talking. “Figured if I had to watch you, then I might as well make it worth my time.”

There was quiet rustling and small noises from whatever the guard was doing; Felix ignored it. Being in handcuffs was bad enough, being unable to move while around this jackass guard was a whole other field of trouble. No matter how he moved, there was no way he was getting out of this, not without help or maybe if he broke his wrists and every bone in his hands. Whatever the guard was saying now, he paid no attention to it. It was this distant, annoying whir of background noise.

A quick glance at the guard showed the man setting something up several feet away. Felix shifted his legs slowly, hissing at the throb of pain. “You can keep fighting,” the guard said, “but you’re handcuffed to that cot, so you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” Felix said. He was staring at the ceiling again, trying to find any way out of this before it got worse. A beating was what he expected, maybe some sort of new terrible torture just for the guard’s sick pleasure. “It’s just a constant stream of bullshit with you, isn’t it? You are definitely the worst person I’ve ever met, just for that one fact. Well, no. Everything else about you is pretty fucking disgusting too. Nice scar, though, really draws the attention.”

What the guard said was just, “That’s a good enough angle. Slut’ll be in the shot, at least…”

Felix paused, turning his head. “Is that a camera…?”

The guard was grinning. He stood behind the camera, perched on a tripod, pointed at Felix. “Have to record it,” he said. “Need to show your boyfriend that we’re putting you to good use.”

“Amateur torture porn?” Felix said. “You’re actually serious?”

“Wrong.” The guard crossed back over to Felix, climbing onto the cot by his legs. Felix raised both as fast as he could, pressing them to the man’s chest. The guard’s hands shot out just as fast, one landing on his hip, the other grasping his thigh and then the guard dug his thumb down into the fresh brand until Felix dropped his legs. Felix growled through gritted teeth, twisting his arms and glaring at the guard. “Oh, sorry,” the guard said. “Does that hurt? You poor little slut.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Felix snarled. The guard’s hand squeezed his leg tighter and white hot pain exploded behind his pain. “Fuck off!”

“Want your painkillers?” The hands left Felix as the guard spoke and then there was a small bottle being shook above his head. “Boss gave it to me,” the guard continued. “Said to make sure you get enough.”

Felix looked from the bottle to the guard and back again. Medication would be great but with this jackass, it couldn’t be that simple. Maybe he’d be given too much, or too little-

Or the guard could just toss the entire bottle away. Felix watched it roll across the floor, stopping near where the camera stood. He could even hear the pills inside it rattling as it rolled. “You’re going to die a terrible death,” Felix said dryly. “Just so you know.”

“Still not scared of you, whore,” the guard said. His hands were back on Felix, holding onto his hips. “Never gonna be. I’m in charge, don’t you get it? I can do whatever I want to you.” One hand moved to Felix’s crotch, and the guard pressed the heel of his hand down hard. He laughed under his breath as Felix’s breath caught in his throat. “Got any suggestions?”

Felix fought against the hand palming and kneading over his cock. “I can kill you, that’ll be fun for both of us,” he said. “Me, carving your heart out and making you eat it. You, dying a slow painful death.”

“I thought I’d give you what you want,” the guard said. He shifted his grip on Felix, forcing his legs apart and moving forward until he could press his hips tight against Felix. He didn’t even have to move for the bulge to be obvious, for Felix to feel it. “I got a problem only a whore can solve.”

Alarms rang in his head then, dread trickling down his spine to mingle with the anger he had felt since the guard showed up. He threatened the guard, insulted him, tried to raise his legs and kick. Each time he moved, the guard would place his other hand over the brand and squeeze. It wasn’t until he was pulling Felix’s pants off that Felix managed to land a kick. Hit the guard right in the face and reared back for a second one.

The guard responded by catching Felix’s raised leg in one hand and reaching for his belt with the other. He came back with a knife, light glinting off the blade. The orange paint caught his eye and Felix’s anger doubled. “Are you fucking with _my_ knife?” he said.

The answer he got was the guard reaching forward to shove his shirt up and dig the edge of the blade into his side. “Gonna cut you with your knife,” the man said. “You hit me, you fight back, you say any goddamn thing, and I’ll make you bleed. I’d enjoy cutting you up, y’know. Be pretty exciting.” He leaned down further, dragging the blade up Felix’s stomach as he slid the shirt up. Then he paused, lowering his other hand down to Felix’s hip, yanking on a barbell under the skin.

Felix’s legs twitched, the urge to kick this fucker skyrocketing. “Don’t fuck with my metal,” he said.

“Only thought girls had these,” the guard said. “You wanna be a girl, whore?”

“You pretentious fuck - “

The knife dug into the skin under his ribs, cutting him off sharply. The guard pitched his hips forward slightly, pressing harder against Felix. “Watch it,” he said. “Don’t want to ruin things before they even start.” He tugged on the piercing in Felix’s hip once more before sliding his fingers underneath Felix’s boxers. The knife was still dug into Felix’s skin, a very real threat. “Think I’ll break you in. How about I make you my fucktoy?”

* * * * *

It was four in the morning when his phone went off. One low beep as it vibrated against the table. Locus wasn’t asleep, but sitting at his desk with his computer and trying to figure out any way to find out information. He wasn’t thrilled about picking up the phone. Another day had passed with no phone calls, no contact with Babylon, no hint of Felix’s whereabouts.  He had been anticipating another one that required him to deal with the gang, but when he picked the phone up, it was a notification for a video file.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. Another video of Felix being tortured perhaps, the same message he had heard from them so far.

What he got was a video that was focused on Felix lying on a small cot, hands behind his head.  A video that showed the bruises over Felix’s skin under bright lights, marks visible in blues and purples. There was a cut over his side, blood running down onto the bed. His shirt was bunched up around his chest, and from the legs down, Felix was nude. There was another man positioned between Felix’s legs, face out of frame.

Locus frowned, watched as the other man undid his own pants. One of his hands held a knife that Locus recognized as Felix’s instantly. He shouldn’t watch this, he thought, but he still sat there and edged the volume on his phone up until Felix’s voice was clear. He was hurling insults at this man, yanking at where his hands were restrained. The man laughed at him, reaching up to slash a shallow cut underneath the first one.

A voice, low and rough, said, “Calm down, whore. Unless you wanna be fucked with your own blood instead of lube.” Hands grasped Felix’s hips, yanking him up, and Felix’s face contort into anger and discomfort.

There was disgust and rage starting to boil in his gut as Locus watched.

Felix said, “Bet you fuck like a bitch,” and through the phone’s speakers, it sounded like a growl. “Got a pencil dick, you piece of shit.”

The knife was digging into Felix’s side again, slicing up through the other two cuts, blood seeping from it. The picture held for several more seconds, showing this man rocking his hips into Felix. His hands gripped Felix by his sides, the one with the blade digging into the blood. Then the video cut, and Locus watched this man as he paused his thrusts to slide the knife through his belt. He forced Felix’s legs around his waist, then reached up and squeezed his hands around Felix’s throat.

Locus watched as Felix started to struggle, writhing underneath the other man. He watched as the guard started moving again, a smooth, quick rhythm; he watched as Felix fought to breathe, saw the blood on the man’s hands - Felix’s blood, fresh. As the video went on, the man was slamming into Felix hard enough to make his body jerk with each thrust.

That same voice was speaking again. “You’re nothing but a fucking slut,” the man said. His voiced was arrogant and tinged with anger. “Little cockwhore, aren’t you? You’re enjoying this. You fucking cunt.” The thrusts that rocked Felix sped up as the man spoke. He pulled his hands from Felix’s throat and Locus could see the bloody marks left behind, heard the wheezing breath that Felix drew in. The man was gripping his hips again, still spitting insults between groans and pants.

Each word that man said angered Locus more. He was furious by the end of it, watching Felix writhe and pull at whatever was binding his hands. He watched this man stop, watched him plant his hands on Felix’s shoulders as he finished. He had the knife in one hand again, and the tip of it was pressing into Felix’s face.

Felix was ignoring it, cursing. He said, “Aw, are you done already?” His voice was still raw, rough, sounded like it would have hurt him to speak at all. “Pretty pathetic job, wimpdick.” For that, Locus got to watch this faceless man lean back, dragging the blade over Felix’s chest slowly. He heard the hissing breath Felix took in and then the man was slicing another cut across Felix’s hips. It took a moment for Locus to realize what the wide-eyed expression on Felix’s face was for, the strangled curses coming from his phone.

He was watching this stranger dig the blade down through the skin to dislodge one of the piercings in Felix’s skin. Felix lay still, curses spilling from him quieter and quieter. Felix’s piercings were important to him and those on his hips would mean the man cut deep enough into the skin to get beneath the curve of an anchored piece of jewelry. When the man laughed and Felix screamed another “Fuck you,” it could mean nothing else.

The man dug a finger into the cut, coming out with something too small to see clearly on the phone, but that caught the light. “Poor little fucktoy,” the man said. He shoved the jewelry into one pocket, reaching down to press his thumb against the cut on Felix’s hip. “If only it’d learn to shut it’s fucking mouth.”

Locus’s rage was burning through his veins by now.

“Good thing you’ve got so many of these,” the man continued. “Maybe I Just pull one out every time you fuck up?”

Felix’s retort was interrupted by a sudden cut in the video. It stabilized on the man standing by Felix’s cot, still holding the knife. His back was to the camera and as he knelt by Felix’s side, there wasn’t anything to help identify him. Just short brown hair, too common to search for in a crowd. A pity, since Locus was going to find that man and kill him violently.

Onscreen, the guard was pressing the blade to Felix’s thigh. “You’re gonna get a lot of these,” he said as he cut swiftly. “Be a nice way to remember me if you get out, don’t you think?” He laughed, adding, “You and your boyfriend can count them together when you tell him how much you miss me fucking you,” and the video ended abruptly.

Locus stared at the blank screen, feeling nothing but rage burning through his veins. The video was burned into his mind, vivid images of Felix being choked, being cut into, insulted. Felix being fucked by this strange man, by one of the men who held him captive. It was all he could see and the only thing he could think of was that he was going to find that man and he was going to kill him violently.

It wasn’t until much later that it occurred to him that the video had been sent to him for no other purpose than to goad him into anger. A way to show Locus what they could do to Felix. That they were more powerful than both of them. It was the only reasoning he could find behind it, because otherwise the man who sent it was just sick and twisted.

If that was what this gang was willing to do to get Locus’s attention, then it left him no other choice. He called Felix’s phone by midday, getting that same person as before. It took him a moment, but then he thought of Felix being tortured, beaten, sliced up and raped.

“I’ll work with you,” he said slowly.

The response he got was pleased, thanking him for his cooperation. “You’ll receive orders by the end of the day,” they said. “And I will pass along the orders not to harm Felix.”

Locus sighed. This should work. This should leave Felix to be safe, for now. Working with Babylon might also allow him to get closer to them, maybe even find out more information. If he kept it up long enough, he could pinpoint their base and recover Felix before anything worse happened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for physical and verbal abuse, sexual assault, and rape. Also, possibly mild gore.

The next few days passed by strangely, with Felix spending all his time in this room. Most of the time, it was quiet and left Felix with no idea what to do with himself. He slept a lot, or at least he tried to; the guard seemed to enjoy slamming the door open and waking him up at random intervals. The overall effect was that it was a little difficult to try and figure out how long he had been there when there wasn’t any obvious hints of the passing of time. His sleep schedule was constantly disrupted, he had been given nothing to eat yet, and only given water a few times. There were no windows in this room, no clocks, just four blank walls and its stained ceiling.

All he really knew was that he was sore and angry and so very fucking tired. The more time passed, the worse it all got, one bad thing after another. To start with, the guard had left him cuffed to the cot for hours. He had lain there, so angry he could hear the blood rushing in his head. There was no point to fighting the handcuffs, he had done that the entire time that guard had fucked him and gotten nowhere for it. Just an ache in his arms to go with the ache in his legs, and his back, and even his ass. It was a shitty way to spend a few hours.

When the guard came back, it was to disinfect the cut on his thigh and the one on his hip. “Gotta keep you healthy for Bossman,” the guard said, slapping bandages on the cuts. “So how are you doing? Anything I can get for you?” His voice was mocking and the grin on his face was condescending. Felix spat in his face.

So the guard beat him a little, hitting his ribs and lower, along skin that was tender and bruising.

“I’m gonna break your ribs,” Felix said when the man stopped. “And then I’ll cut your chest open and stab your eyes out with your own broken bones. It’ll be a good show.” Fuck. His chest and sides were stinging and aching and all the guard did was laugh at him.

He was uncuffed from the cot, dragged off by one wrist, and then had the cuffs slapped back on. His hands were in front of him now but moving them made his shoulders groan. The guard had stood in the corner of the room and watched as Felix crawled across to the floor to his pants. It was frustrating to have that jackass watch him as he fought against the burning ache in his legs and back, and the handcuffs on his wrists, just to pull his clothes back on.

Those painkillers from before never made it to him. The guard picked the bottle off the floor, pocketed it, and left.

How long Felix was in that room alone he wasn’t sure. As much as he hated it, he had nothing else to do but wait. To crawl back onto the cot and try and sleep, dealing with the guard periodically slamming the door open. Since all the time he spent there blurred together, he wasn’t sure how much time passed then. There were a few times when he would go into the small bathroom across from his cot; if there was a shower, he would have bathed ten times over. The feeling of that man’s hands on him, of the man being _in_ him, just wasn’t going away. Made his skin crawl, anger mixing with this uneasy feeling as he stood gripping the sink tightly.

He was powerful, dangerous, and yet this had still happened. He looked at himself in the mirror, at the dark shadows under his eyes and the dirty face that glared back at him. “You’re better than this,” he said. So what if some sick fuck had branded him and another had tied him down?

“Gonna get out of here,” he said. When he breathed, hunger pierced his sides and there was an ache in his chest that made him wonder if ribs were bruised. “If anyone can break out of a heavily secured facility, it’s me.”

It’d just… take a while.

When he left the bathroom, there was a thermos sitting on the table. Must be water, he thought, walking to it. The handcuffs clinked softly when he spun the lid off, but when he raised it, the smell of urine floated out. Felix gagged, shoved the thermos back and retreated back to the bathroom. He drank water from the bathroom sink, hatred boiling for the man put in charge of him.

It went like that for a while. He tried to sleep, he failed. Hunger woke him, his own constant anger prevented him from falling asleep, the guard; a constant stream of interruptions until Felix was brimming with rage and feeling hunger pangs lancing through his sides with every breath. He drank from the bathroom faucet, not trusting anything the guard brought him.

Then he realized he had no idea how long it had been. It felt like days stretching on, but the fucking room… Windowless, no clocks, nothing. Felix glared at himself in the bathroom mirror, more annoyed at how lost he was feeling and how quickly it was happening than anything else at the moment. At best, he figured another day had passed.

How long had he been here, then?

Where the fuck was Locus?

The annoyance, the anger, all of it rose until Felix felt like he had to do something to get rid of it. It was racing through his veins, pounding in his head, and Felix raised his hands without thinking and slammed both fists into the dirty mirror. The chain between the handcuffs clinked, the glass cracked, and then Felix was hitting the mirror until it broke. It took more hits than he wanted for it to break entirely, pieces falling into the sink and clattering to the floor by Felix’s feet.

He considered the mess of glass before reaching for the largest piece. The glass was jagged on every side and he held it carefully. Held it just long enough to take it to the cot and sit it beside him. There was still rage rushing through him but now he had something to focus on, somewhere to direct it, a way to vent it.

All he had to do was wait. The next time that guard opened the door, he had a weapon and he was going to cut the bastard’s throat out.

Except that the next time the door swung open, it was two people that entered. One he didn’t recognize; the other was his guard, that scar twisting over his face as he gave Felix a smug grin. It wasn’t these people Felix focused on, but the smell of food that flooded the room and the tray in the stranger’s hands. Smell of meat and sauces that made his mouth water instantly.

The guard said, “Bossman says you get fed now. Don’t know why, but here you are.”

The other person set the tray on the table, placing a water bottle by it. “Why do you call them that?” this person said to the guard. “If Boss hears you, you’ll get your ass killed.”

Felix ignored both of them. He knew he should attack them, but now there were two of them and if he messed up, then there was no telling when he’d get another chance. And there was food, actual goddamn food just sitting there and taunting him. He could have a lot more food when he left, have a whole feast if he wanted. All he had to do was take the piece of glass in hand. But he left it on the bed when he rose to his feet.

The food didn’t look that great up close, but it smelled like heaven. Felix sank into the chair was  handed a plastic fork, and he ate every bite. The guards stayed nearby while he ate, and then snatched the fork and the tray back as soon as it was gone. The bottle of water stayed and Felix downed what was left in it once both of them were gone.

The hunger pangs didn’t stop. If anything, Felix felt worse; gnawing, biting pain shot up his sides with every breath. Would have been just like without food, except it felt like his stomach was revolting against him for that pathetic excuse of a meal. He laid on the cot, curled on his side, hands clutched over his stomach as he glared at the shard of mirror beside him.

Again, there was a loss of time and the uncertainty that came with it, but eventually that door opened again. By the time Felix sat up, the door was swinging shut again. His guard, helmetless, stared him down from the center of the room. “Feel special?” the guard asked. “Got people in here who haven’t eaten in over a week, but you? Bossman seems to like you. Gotta keep the whore fed.”

“Could have given me more food,” Felix said. He kept his eyes on the guard even as his fingers grasped the edge of the glass. No better time. Fuck, this was like a second chance, he _had_ to do it. “Especially if your boss is ordering you to feed me. Don’t wanna piss anyone off, do you? What was it the other guy said earlier? Gonna get your ass killed? Yeah. Yeah, that was it.”

The guard had taken a few steps toward him, one hand falling to the gun on his hip. “Think you can goad me into somethin’?” he said. “Too fucking bad. Only here to see how you were doing. Give a report to the Boss. Maybe I’ll let him know the fuckhole’s being used nicely, how ‘bout it?”

Felix had the glass in his hands now, edges threatening to cut his palms. “Just try it,” he said. “See how far you get.”

The guard advanced on him, and Felix lunged. He aimed for the guy’s knees first, keeping low and striking quick. The shard cut through the man’s pants but didn’t hit his leg. It was a glancing blow at best, maybe a small cut, but Felix had wanted the glass to carve through the meat and muscle. He wanted to carve this guard up, leave so many slices and cuts that the man would be lying in pain and misery before bleeding out.

But he couldn’t. No time to drag it out like that for one thing. This had to be done quick enough for him to get the keys off the guy - maybe his boots and his shirt, definitely the weapons. Whatever it took to get out of this hellhole.

For another, the blade missed. Felix swerved around the guard, moving with ease. The guard snarled out an insult, turning toward him, and Felix attacked again. He felt the glass push through the fabric covering the guard’s arm, felt it slicing into the man’s arm.

The guard’s face contorted with pain and anger. He said, “You little fucking piece of shit,” and his voice rose with each word.

Here, Felix would probably taunt this fucker. Grin and mock the guy, draw it out for as long as possible. Maybe if Felix had his armor, it’d be like that. Too bad. He might have enjoyed toying with the guard before slicing his throat out.

The guard reached for him with his other arm, and Felix dodged it, snatching the glass out. He aimed for the places he’d usually go for, the weak points, the places that would make someone slow down. The glass was cutting into his palms, and though he did his best to ignore it, that pain was piling on top of the roiling hunger and the anger that coursed through his blood.

In the moment, Felix didn’t think about what went wrong here. Maybe it was that his hands were cuffed, that he didn’t have one free, that he couldn’t just push this guard around. Maybe the hunger or the lack of sleep had an effect. Or maybe the anger just clouded his mind and he forgot, but whatever it was, the guard managed to catch him. The one thing his small stature was good for was being fast enough not to get caught by jackasses like this, and he fucked that up.

It was sudden. The guard reached for him, blood dripping from his arm, and when Felix dodged that one, he felt a foot kick his aside. There was a split second where he refused to stop, aiming for the man’s face to make that scar an X, but then the guard swept both his legs out from under him and Felix dropped.

He hit the ground with a grunt and then the guard’s heel was pressing into his chest. “Give me the fucking glass,” the guard barked.

Felix glared at him. Spit on his boot. His hands, still clutching the glass, were near his face. Blood ran over the reflective surface and he wasn’t sure if it was his or the guards’. "The only way you're going to get it,” he said, “is if you use pliers to pull it out of your ass because that's where I'm gonna shove it."

The guard scoffed and dug his heel in deeper. “Sounds like you need another lesson, huh, cunt?”

“Ohh, that sounds like fun,” Felix said, “but let’s skip it. I’ll settle for an F for fuck you.”

This asshole of a guard didn’t say anything, not right away. He raised his foot and stomped on Felix’s chest; it would have landed on his arms if he hadn’t pulled them out of the way. It was growing more and more obvious that this was one of this jackoff’s favorite things to do: lift foot, stomp on whatever part of someone he could reach. Minimal effort required, good payoff in making Felix cough and wheeze as the breath was shoved out of his lungs. “Keep it up, you stupid fucking whore,” the guard spat. “I’ll beat you until every inch of you is bruised and that’ll just be the beginning.”

Felix wanted to say something to that, really. It was a weak threat, and the guard deserved worse than whatever Felix could say to him. But when he opened his mouth, all he did was groan again as his next breath sent shooting pains through his chest. The guard nudged him with one foot and Felix thought that painful breathing wasn’t a good sign.

“Give up the glass,” the guard said. He moved his foot to the hand that still clutched the shard. “You’re gonna give it to me, even if I have to break your fucking fingers.” He was pressing his heel into Felix’s hand as he spoke.

It still took a moment for Felix to release the glass. Giving up made him weak but his plan had already failed. When the guard stepped off him and bent to pick the glass up, Felix rolled away, onto his hands and knees. He glared at the guard before pushing to his feet. The man was turning the bloodied glass over in his hand. “You’re gonna have to be punished for this,” the guard said, looking back at Felix.

“Fuck off,” Felix said. He was forcing himself to breathe as if that beating hadn’t had an effect.

The guard ignored him, setting the glass down on the table. “Can’t let a prisoner get away with attacking me, y’know. Especially not you.” He turned back to Felix, hand on the gun at his side. “Know what the Bossman told me to do about you?”

"To wait on me hand and foot like my own personal servant?"

“Told me to break you,” the guard continued. “Make you into the perfect prisoner. So that’s what I’m gonna do. Break you in every single fuckin’ way.”

“Yeah, real threatening. You’ve said this kind of shit before.”

“Too bad that beating doesn’t count as your punishment,” the guard said. “It’s always fun beating the fuck out of you.” HIs gun was in his hand now and Felix spared it a glance before turning away. “Gonna have to get creative.”

“Do you need help?” Felix said. “I got some. Let’s see, uh… Talking to you is bad, listening to you is worse, looking at you - oh, that one. That’s my least favorite.”

The guard stared at him for a few seconds before smirking. “Nah, I got it. Gonna make you shut the fuck up. Get on your knees.”

“I’d rather not.”

The guard had his gun leveled at Felix in a flash, face contorted in the ugliest smile that Felix had ever seen. “Gonna give you one chance,” he said. “You listen to what I tell you or I’m going to shoot you.”

“Can’t shoot me,” Felix said. “I’m valuable, remember? The VIP of prisoners.” As pathetic as that sounded.

“Oh, sure,” the guard said, “but I never said I’d kill you.” He lowered the gun as he spoke, until it was pointed toward Felix’s knees. After a moment, the guard pressed his finger to the trigger. “On your knees, slut, or I’ll force you on them.”

Felix glared at the man, then dropped his eyes on the gun. The guard’s hand was steady, and there wasn’t anything in that fucker’s eyes that said he was joking. As much as he hated to, Felix dropped to his knees. He held his stare on the guard, boring holes into the man’s skull and watching as he lowered the gun.

“Good job, fuckhole,” the guard said. He slid the gun back into its holster, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Gonna walk you through this. Just this once, so pay attention. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a while, and a whore like you is the perfect thing to do it for me. Only a few steps, not too difficult, even for you. Goes like this, see: When I whistle, you’re on your knees and you come to me. You’re gonna be a good little slut and open your mouth for me, just like you’re meant to. Got it?”

“Goddamn, you talk so much,” Felix said.

The guard didn’t move. He whistled and sighed when Felix didn’t move. “Really want another beating?” he said. “Have to make things difficult…” He spoke as if it was a chore, but the gun was already in his hand and he was crossing the few feet to Felix.

Felix threw his hands up to catch the guard, but though he caught one hand, he missed the gun. The guard slammed the butt of the gun into the side of Felix’s face then. His grip slackened, and the guard snatched his other hand back, reaching up to Felix’s hair, yanking his head up. Felix was breathing through gritted teeth, forced to stare up at the guard.

“Let’s try it again,” the guard said, kneeling in front of him. “You can take as long as you want to get this, but I _will_ beat you every time you fail. It’s something we gotta do. Preparing you for the Boss, you know that, don’t you?” He patted the gun against Felix’s face, and then straightened up again. He didn’t elaborate on that last statement, just took a few steps back and whistled again.

Felix didn’t move.

It took another two tries before Felix listened. Two more ignored whistles, then blows to his aching ribs. The guard again, sharply, and Felix hated the asshole as he moved forward slowly, breathing shallow, fingers scraping across the floor. Once he was at the guards’ feet, he glared at the ground and didn’t look up even when he heard the sound of a zipper.

The guard’s hand fell on his face, tilted his head up. “Look at that. Right where you belong,” he said. “At dick level.”

Felix said, “Get that thing anywhere near me and you’ll lose it.” Didn’t stop the guard from palming over his crotch, moving his other hand to Felix’s head, fingers gripping his hair and stopping him from moving. Felix looked away, refusing to look at the guard. He could still see it, just at the edge of his vision. The guard pulling out his cock and stroking.

“Mouth open,” the guard said. “Be a good little fuckhole and open up.”

The urge to say something was strong, but Felix kept his mouth shut. He heard the guard sigh again, an annoyed exhale, and then the hand left his head. Felix backed up instantly, but then there was a foot in his gut, and he doubled over. Despite himself, he glanced up and caught sight of the guard’s cock hardening under the man’s hand.

“Open your fucking mouth,” the guard said.

Felix dropped his gaze again, looking at his hands. The skin around his wrists was red from the handcuffs and his blood stained the floor around the cut in his palm.

When Felix didn’t move, the guard knelt in front of him, reaching forward with both hands. His fingers dug into Felix’s jaw, sliding over his lips and forcing his mouth open. Felix bit down and narrowly missed the fingers that shot out of his mouth. He growled, the guard smacked him, and then there was a gun in his face. He looked at the barrel in front of his face and froze.

“I’ll put the fucking gun in your mouth, chink,” he said. “This is your last warning. Open. Your mouth.”

Felix paused, considered the gun in front of him, and did nothing. Not until the guard started to press down on the trigger. The second he opened his mouth, the guard stood again, reaching down to take himself in hand again. “You’re not putting that fucking thing in my mouth,” Felix said flatly.

“You don’t have a choice.”

He opened his mouth to snap back at the man, and ended up with the guard’s cock pressed to his lips. A hand landed on his head, the guard pushing himself into Felix’s mouth. He tasted the man’s cock on his tongue, and reacted instantly. Felix bit down, teeth scraping against the guard’s cock, and then it was yanked out of his mouth. He had a split second where he was laughing, and then the guard’s pistol was slammed into his face again- twice. Hard enough to make his eyes water and vision blur.

The next time the guard pushed into his mouth, there was a gun against his head, lying flat but there as a threat and Felix clenched his hands into fists. Disgust and rage rose in him like a storm, but he stayed where he was, opening his mouth wider as the guard pushed further in. It wouldn’t fit, he thought, not the whole fucking thing. The guard started to pull out and slide back in, fucking Felix’s mouth slowly. “This is all you’re good for,” he said, pushing far into Felix’s mouth. “Just a thing to fuck. Doesn’t even matter what hole.”

Felix would have glared but his eyes were screwed shut. He kept fighting back the retching that rose with every thrust into the back of his throat. He had been wrong before, the guard had managed to shove his entire cock into Felix’s mouth, pushing Felix’s face against his crotch with every thrust. Every time the guard’s cock slid out of his throat, he fought against the gagging.

The instant he failed and gagged, body convulsing, the guard laughed at him. "For such a big mouth you sure do have trouble fitting all my dick in there,” he said.

Felix hated it, the gagging more than the cock pushing in his throat. He had mocked this jackass for the size of his dick and now, with the length of it pressing into the back of his throat, it was hard to breathe. He felt the bile pushing up his throat; his jaw was aching, stretched as far as it’d go for the guard to fuck his throat. The guard had put his gun up, holding Felix’s head with both hands to thrust in and out of his mouth easier. Felix’s gagging didn’t bother the guard, just seemed to spur him on.

Then he felt the vomit rising, tasted it in his mouth, and retched violently. The guard pulled out of his mouth a second before Felix bent over and, for the second time, puked over the floor of this dirty floor. He sat there on his knees, hands on his bare stomach, retching even though he had already vomited. There was still a hand on his head, and he was yanked up by his hair just in time for cum to splatter on his face. Felix snarled, twisting away from the guard.

The guard was laughing at him. “Not too bad,” he said. “For a first time, anyway. We gotta work on that gag reflex.”

Felix growled a curse in response. He wanted to get this man’s cum off his face but what the hell was he gonna use? His own shirt? Without anything to change into, he wasn’t too thrilled at the idea of using it to clean himself. He shuffled away from the vomit at least, trying not to think about how this meant he had nothing in his stomach again. Get food, puke it all up.

He heard the guard moving and looked back to watch the man pushing open the bathroom door. “Shattered the fucking mirror,” the guard said to himself. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me... You’re a lot of trouble, chink.“ Then the noise of class clattering as he tossed the shard he had taken from Felix into the sink.

“Just get the fuck out,” Felix said. He made his way back to the cot.

The guard ignored him and walked back to the door. There was the shortest pause before he said to someone outside. “Get me custodial. The fuckin’ prick puked.” Another pause, then - “No, look - just - Get me a fucking rag, alright?” He stood there for a short while, arguing with whoever had come to his call, saying that he needed both the rag and custodial. Then he slammed the door again and walked over to Felix, tossing a rag in his direction.

Felix didn’t look up, just scrubbed the rag over his face and then sat on the cot and watched as a woman came into the room. She pulled a cart full of cleaning supplies with her and cleaned up the vomit first, asked the guard what the hell had made him puke. And then she was donning gloves, picking shards out of the sink and dropping into a small empty bucket.  She said to the guard, “Gonna take a couple of days to get a new mirror. Have to get it approved by Boss, so it’s up to you to keep him clean. Can’t see himself, can’t clean himself.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” the guard said. He stood close to the cot, leaning against the wall. Blood stained his shirt sleeve, but he paid it no attention. “Clean the shit and get out.”

She ignored him for a while, the only sounds being the clink of the glass. Then she said, “Why did he break the glass?”

“Because he’s a stupid little fucker,” the guard said.

“I was hoping to slit his throat,” Felix said, “but as you can tell, it didn’t work out that way. Next time I might cut his dick off, maybe that’ll shut him up.” He watched the guard turn his head and added, “Dickless and scarred, what a piece of work you’ll be then.”

The woman was laughing in the bathroom, a minor victory that didn’t do a thing about the anger sitting in his gut. He sat there, staring daggers into the man beside him, and tried not to taste the vomit in his mouth. His hands were gripping his knees; he felt the pain in his palm from the cuts but ignored it. All he could think about was being forced to let the guard fuck his throat until he puked.

The janitor left the bathroom, pausing before she left when the guard called out to her. “Send in a medic,” the guard said. She glanced over at Felix, and left without another word.

Silence held after her departure for a few seconds, but then the guard knelt in front of Felix. He smirked at Felix’s glare. “Gonna have some nasty bruises, cunt,” he said. He raised one hand to tap at the side of Felix’s face, where his pistol had hit earlier. “Nice, nasty bruises. Signs of how tough it is to break in an unruly whore.”

Felix kept his gaze steady, tilting his head back and eyeing the guard through narrowed eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a pretentious dickbiting jackoff?”

The guard laughed, short and grating. “Keep it up,” he said. “You keep behavin’ like that, you get to stay with me.”

The door opened just as Felix said, “I’m going to break out of here. And when I do, you’re going to be the first one to die. That’s a promise.”

A pair of medics entered, both small-statured and wearing those bland grey outfits. One of them told the guard to keep an eye on Felix, ‘cause the Boss didn’t care for that attitude. This one tended to the guard, cleaning up the jagged wound in his arm and examining it before escorting him out. “You’re going to need medbay,” the medic said. “Needs to be disinfected somewhere clean.”

The second medic didn’t talk much, aside from saying that no, Felix wasn’t going to be taken to medbay when he asked. He was going to be treated in that room. The medic cleaned the cut in his hand, complete with disinfectant, and then wrapped a bandage over his palm. Some kind of soothing balm was rubbed into his wrists, behind the cuffs. The medic even reached up to examine his face, dabbing at small cuts left from the guards’ pistol before asking, “Got anything else?”

He thought of the cut on his thigh, the one on his hip where a piercing had been, and shook his head. There was no way he was explaining that to this medic, no chance in hell that he was going to admit to what happened. The medic left and he sat in the empty room, listening to the sound of his own breathing. It couldn’t have been that long before the door opened again, just long enough for Felix to lay back on the ot and stare up at the ceiling.

That same guard, in a new shirt but still just as ugly. He kicked the door shut behind him, and Felix eyed him from the cot. He watched the guard reach for his belt, pulling the knife out, and scowled. “You wanna fuck off already?”

“Just here for your reminder,” the guard said, advancing on him quickly. “Need to make sure you understand something.” The second he was at Felix’s side, he was reaching out with his empty hand.

Felix threw his hands up, the cuffs sliding over his wrists again, and aimed for the guards’ throat. The man’s hand knocked his wrists aside, and then Felix was trying to gouge the asshole’s eyes out at the same time that a hand clamped down over his mouth. The guard leaned back as far as he could without taking his hand from Felix; still holding the knife, he reached up and yanked Felix’s hands away. Then, with Felix struggling and trying to kick him off, the guard shoved him over onto his back. One hand held Felix’s hands over his head, the other stayed over his mouth.

For a moment, the guard was simply leaning over him, that ugly smirk cut across his features. He said, “Listen up, slut,” and Felix fought to pull out of his grasp. “The only thing you’re good for - the only reason the Boss is even interested in you - is ‘cause you’re a dirty little whore. I can do whatever I want to you ‘cause you want it anyway.”

Felix glared at the man. This panicked feeling was taking root in his gut, similar to what he had felt before the guard fucked him before. He fought again, practically thrashing underneath the guard, and then there was a knee pressing painfully into his crotch.

“Fight a lot for a fucktoy,” the guard said. His voice was low, casual. “Your boyfriend must not have trained you well, but that’s fine. It’s gonna be a lot of fun making you understand you’re nothing.” The hand on his mouth squeezed, fingers digging painfully into Felix’s face. “If you’re not being fucked, you’re useless. Me and Boss, we get that. And I get to be the one to show you your place.”

It was easily the most ridiculous thing Felix had heard since he set foot in this place, but the panic in his gut still flared up wildly. The guard pressed down harder on his crotch and then the knee was removed and Felix’s hands were released. Before he could do anything, the guard flipped him over onto his stomach. The hand that had been over his mouth gripped his hair, pushing his face down.. “The fuck are you doing?” Felix growled. “I’m not gonna have to listen to you again, am I? One pretentious evil villain speech wasn’t enough for you?”

The guards’ free hand was shooting under Felix to undo his pants then, yanking them down around his thighs. “Told you,” he said. “I have to give you a reminder.” A pause where the guard moved onto the cot completely, weight pressing down around Felix’s back. “Now stay still or I’m ripping out another piercing.”

Felix started to say something, insult the guard and flip the arrogant fucker off of him, but then the blade of the knife was pressing against his thigh. It sliced into his skin quickly, and Felix winced. The pain would be worse soon, he knew. After a second, the guard was off of him and he rolled over reaching down to press his fingers to his thigh. He felt the first cut, barely starting to heal, and then hissed as his fingers ran over the fresh one.

The guard was laughing, wiping the knife off on Felix’s pants. He aimed a kick and it connected, but the man barely grunted. “Can’t wait to watch that number rise,” he said.  He left while Felix was pulling his pants up and spitting insults.

* * * * *

The first order came two days after Locus had agreed to work for them, not the first night like he had been told. The person he spoke with wasn’t the usual one, but a woman who sounded as if she had so much more to do than relay orders. She gave an apology for the delay, one that sounded fake and bland; the only thing she would say about the wait was, “Boss has been busy.”

For the job, she gave him an address and said he had to be there by the next day. Early evening would be preferable, she said. Call back when he was finished. The order itself was simple: Kill them all.

The address was close to the city he and Felix lived in, only two hours away. A small industry town, and Locus was sent right to the heart of it. He waited until dusk to enter the town, the armor and the guns he held attracting cursory glances from people on the streets. Most of them seemed to have the sense to leave when they saw him, darting into the nearest buildings or down alleys. The building looked like a business, and if Locus were to guess, it was likely a front for some kind of gang. It advertised repairs for miscellaneous machinery on a sign in a window.

A glance through the dirty window didn’t show much. Small waiting room, chairs and a counter. One man behind the counter. Screens on the wall behind him displaying prices for jobs. Locus pushed open the door with one hand, shotgun in the other. The man at the counter barely looked up from the tablet in his hands. “Don’t get a lot of armored guys through here,” he said. “What do you need? Ship busted? Communicator?”

“My equipment is in perfect condition.” Locus scanned the small room quickly. Camera in the corner, door behind the counter.

The man looked up at him again, eyes narrowed. “Then you got five seconds to tell me what you want. Cause big armored fucks like you aren’t good for business.”

If this man was smart, there was a gun under that counter. Something that hit hard.

Locus said, “I need information.”

The man set his tablet down, leaning closer to the counter. “Of what kind?”

“The location of Babylon.”

“There’s no Babylon around here,” the man said. “Maybe you should try somewhere else.”

“Tell me where to find them.”

The man was frowning now. Locus tightened his grip on the shotgun. He had hoped that this would go smoothly. Question these people, receive information on Babylon, and finish the job with something to renew his search with. Surely if the people here were a threat that required Locus to kill them all, then someone here should know something.

“Look here, buddy,” the man behind the counter said. His tone was calm, barely masking the irritation behind it. “I don’t know nothin’ about this Babylon of yours. If you aren’t here for business, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Disappointing. Locus didn’t move, watching the man as he straightened back up. He slipped one hand beneath the counter, and by the time he had pulled out a pistol, Locus had the shotgun leveled at his head. the man didn’t show any signs of fear, not obviously at least; it was quite a feat considering he had to know that that pistol stood no chance against a shotgun held by a person in full armor.

“You have one more chance,” Locus said, “to tell me everything you know about Babylon.”

The man answered with, “Fuck Babylon,” so Locus pulled the trigger.

He didn’t watch the bullets hit the man’s head, reaching over the counter to snag the pistol from his hand. Blood splattered the front of his helmet as he moved and he frowned. He expected blood on his armor after jobs like this one, but it was always more annoying when it got on the helmet. The man behind the counter fell and Locus had a few silent seconds to examine the pistol he held. Armor-piercing rounds, something that would have taken his shields down with two well-placed shots. One if the person behind the trigger was lucky.

The door behind the counter opened and Locus fired the pistol, catching the first person through it between the eyes. He watched the flickering of failed shields, fired again, and then shot the next one in the torso. This second one lowered a hand to his stomach, face unprotected and eyes wide.

Locus leveled the gun at this one and said, “Tell me about Babylon.”

No answer. A confused look.

Locus sighed and shot again, moving around the counter and through the doorway. He stepped over the bodies, avoiding the weapons the pair had dropped. Beyond was a staircase, curving down; Locus walked down it slowly, past two empty landings, until the stairs ended on a large open room. Bright lights hung overhead giving Locus an easy view of the room, of the people that milled about, tables set up across the floor and against the walls. There were ten of them. Easy enough for Locus to take out on his own, even without the element of surprise.

There were guns against one wall and the vehicles at the back that he automatically assumed to be armored.

He had one second to wonder just who these people were, and then the nearest person noticed him standing there. This person’s face was covered; whoever it was had enough time to say, “Who the fuck - ?” before Locus had raised the shotgun and fired into their stomach.

That one shot echoed through the room. People turned to him, rose from their seats, reaching for guns strapped to their sides. Their response was quick, though if the mess of the yelling that rose from so many of them was anything to go by, these people weren’t well organized. It was likely they hadn’t trained for the sudden intrusion of anyone, let alone someone armed and shooting. And if that was the case, then they’d be easy to kill at least.

The one he had shot was still stumbling close to him and Locus reached out, snagging that one by the arm. He pulled the bleeding, dying person back to him, slinging them in front of himself. Human meat shields were something he expected from Felix rather than himself, but in this situation, it worked well. The first bullet fired slammed into his gut, shields absorbing the impact; the next few landed in the gut of the body - his shield, rather.

None of these people were in range of the shotgun he still held. Rather than drop it, Locus shoved the person he held forward, and after a brief moment, they responded. Feet dragging on the ground, blood dripping from the bullet wounds, Locus pushed them on until he could raise the gun and fire. His armor absorbed most of the recoil but the gun still jerked, rounds firing far higher than he meant. Hit the shoulder of one man, the answering curse more than enough to show that he was still alive. And guns were still being fired, many hitting the person Locus held. More than he would have liked pinged against him, lowering his shields slowly.

Another round from the shotgun and the one with the wounded shoulder lost half his head, blood splattering the woman beside him. Locus turned the body and shot her as well, adjusting for the shotgun’s recoil and catching her in the chest.

Another bullet slammed into him, and Locus watched his shields deplete completely.

He still didn’t want to drop his shotgun, but for the moment, for a little while… Locus set the shotgun on the ground beside him, and moved as quickly as he could. Picked the now dead person he held before him up, only to throw them toward the nearest group of people. It worked as he expected. There were three of them, and all of them either moved or jerked back in surprise. The body slammed into the floor, skidding, and the gunfire died down, all of them dropping from their battle stances to work around the corpse of a colleague thrown their way.

That lack of focus, the inability to move and fire at the same time, that was helpful. So was the slow speed in which they raised their guns again. Even with some in the back still firing on him, Locus had time to snatch the shotgun back up and charge. He fired once and one of the trio fell, skull caving in and exploding out as the shotgun round ripped through. The next, Locus grasped by the throat, squeezing until he felt something snap beneath his grip. When he let go, the man dropped to the floor, coughing and choking.

That one would die on his own, drowning in his own blood. Locus was sure of it.  All he did was kick the gun by the man’s hand aside.

The last standing one of the trio, the sixth person in all, only had enough time to say, “You motherfucker!” before Locus had killed them as well.

It was simple from there. With only four people left, all Locus had to do was duck behind tables, switch from the shotgun to the stolen pistol, and fire quickly. Two shoots caught the first in the shoulder, then the throat; the second and the third took three shots each, all in the face and the neck. The fourth, Locus shot in the arm until they dropped the gun they held. Another shot in their shoulder, and then Locus was moving across the room to them.

He stepped over one dead body, crushed the windpipe of a gurgling man with one forceful stomp, and rushed to the still living person. They were scrambling away, tripping over their own feet, one hand to their wounded shoulder. Locus shot again, bullet tearing through the back of one knee, and the person fell again. They spat curses at him, insults and threats. Locus knelt by them, gripping the collar of the jacket they wore with one hand; with the other, he reached up and ripped off the helmet that shielded their face. Feminine features; soft. Pretty. And angry.

“Why the fuck would you do this?” they asked.

Rather than answer, Locus pressed the barrel of the pistol between their eyes. He said, “Give me any information you have on Babylon.” They didn’t answer, and Locus lowered his finger to the trigger. “Anything you may have heard, any small piece of information you know. Tell me.”

“Th-There’s a warehouse!” Their eyes were wide, anger replaced by fear and focused on the face of his helmet. Their voice shook as they spoke. “That - That’s all I know, I swear!”

“Where?”

“Ah… A-At the edge of town. Big abandoned thing, everyone knows where it is.”

Locus lowered the pistol, watched the relief flooding through their face. He let them go, standing. As he turned, they said, “What - why did you do this? If you’re looking for Babylon, why - ?”

He killed them without answering. There wasn’t anything to say. It wasn’t as if he was going to tell a stranger about the phone calls and the videos, and the consuming need to destroy the entire gang that had taken Felix away.

Standing there in the large, empty room, Locus took a deep breath to steady himself. The last few days hadn’t come with a lot of sleep for him and he couldn’t stop yet. A lead, finally, surfaced from the mind of the dead person before him. Before he left, Locus took the time to find more ammunition. Weapons, he had plenty of but there was never going to be such a thing as too much ammo.

Outside, the streets were empty. Night had fallen and lights shone in windows up and down the streets, blinding streetlights casting pools of white light on the ground. It would have been fine, a great chance to leave, if Locus had any idea where to find an old warehouse on his own.

Instead of taking the time to find someone, Locus marched across the street to another shop and threw open the door. He said, “I need to find an old warehouse,” as soon as every eye had turned onto him. It was some kind of bar, of course it was, but at least the people in there didn’t make him ask twice. The bartender gave quick instructions and someone else actually took the time to draw him a map. As he turned to leave, someone by the door spoke to him. Long hair, braided over one shoulder, drink in one hand. “You should clean the blood off,” was all this person said.

It took him maybe forty-five minutes to get to the edge of the town, and to the abandoned warehouses. There were several, all large and towering over the vacant land around them. There were three in all, surrounded by a high fence hung with a faded sign. He didn’t bother reading it, just looked at the symbol at the top center. The tower and the circle.

The whole place was deserted from the outside. The first warehouse he tried however, opened up to a small group of people gathered around a crackling fire. Homeless, the poor, one of those. And they had made their home here.

One of them, a young woman, said, “We don’t want any trouble.” She raised her hands as she spoke, a sign of defeat in contrast to the sharp and dangerous look in her eyes. The others around the fire mimicked her action, though none of them spoke. “We don’t have anything.”

Locus paused. The brief thought of having to kill these people too crossed his mind, but he settled on saying, “Do you know anything about who owned this building?”

After a brief hesitation from these people, they started talking. Locus being in full armor, speckled with blood, and heavily armed had something to do with how quickly people reacted to his questions, he was sure. They spoke fast, speaking over one another. The warehouses were owned by Babylon, one of them said. The entire town was taken over by Babylon, said another. The gang had had a hand in almost every business in town, circulating money and drugs and weapons. Groups of gang members had roamed the streets, offering protection but from what, none of these people could say.

None of them could give a concrete reason for Babylon leaving either. The young woman who had spoken first said it was a rival gang that ran them out, but an old man beside her said Babylon had left for better horizons. That, Locus assumed, meant the gang had found richer people to exploit.

It didn’t matter. Not a single thing they said gave him anything to go by. “There’s storage rooms in the back,” the young woman told him after the others quieted down. “You should check there.” She must be eager for him to leave, surely.

Locus did as she said, walking past them to the back of the warehouse. He heard them start whispering to one another, ignoring it after the words melted together, and set to rooting through what was left in the building. Most of it was junk, old mechanical parts and tools. One room held papers, scattered across the floor, all text on them smeared and faded and entirely unreadable. Readers were thrown to the back of a table there, but only one turned on.

Through the flickering screen, he could read some hastily written message that addressed no one as name but spoke of selling the property, maybe, for more money. There wasn’t a name of the writer either, but there was a professionally written note attached, outlining the previous proposal. That was signed with the name Jenna Malkova.

He took the reader with him when he left.

* * * * *

Several days later, Locus received his second order. This time, the call was from Babylon’s Leader, and they would say nothing of Felix. All they said was that they had given the order and Felix was no longer being harmed.

The order this time was to go to another city, a large prosperous city, and find one man. He was to kill this man however he liked, so long as the job was complete in four days and he called the Leader back as soon as the assigned target was dead.  The Leader gave him the name, the location of the man’s job, and left the rest up to him. His choice of weapon and of where to kill the man.

Easy. Something Locus had done time and time again.

This time, however, he was exhausted. The past few days he had had little sleep, a bad habit he was falling into while searching for the gang took up so much of his time. He stayed up late, researching as much as he could by himself, looking for trails anywhere that would lead to these people. The name he had found didn’t turn up much. All he really found out was that Jenna Malkova was training to be in the military before falling off the grid several years ago. On the same site he had found the photographs of Babylon’s armored Leader, there were a handful of pictures of a blonde woman in bulky outfits. Every one of them featured her holding a gun in her hands, and all of them marked her as a member of Babylon’s security force.

What he couldn’t find was anything explaining why a gang needed a security force. And where Jenna Malkova was now.

Before he left his apartment to complete the job, Locus sent a message to someone who owed him a favor. She was just a pirate, but she was far better at gathering intel than Locus was on his own. He sent her the name, and a request to send him any and all information found on her.

The job itself took three days, and Locus spent most of it awake and waiting anxiously for a message from the pirate. Other than the usual confirmation that she had gotten the initial message, there was nothing. It was surprisingly stressful just waiting.

Locus shot the target from across the street, located on an empty floor of a skyscraper, sniper rifle in hand. The weight of the silence from the target was bad, almost as bad as the persistent mystery of Felix’s condition. In that room, Locus waited until he heard sirens coming down the street to  call Felix’s phone. He tried not to think that it wasn’t Felix picking up on the other end, though it was painful how the voice reminded him of that.

“It’s done?” the Leader asked.

“Yes. He’s dead.”

“Good.” A pause. “You nearly missed your time limit, Locus. Try to finish it quicker next time. I’d rather not have to handle these things myself, you know.”

Locus frowned. “It’s only been three days. You said I had four.”

“Complete the jobs faster,” they repeated. “You’ll receive another order when I need you again.” They cut the call without another word, leaving Locus to pack up his weapon and leave, avoiding the sirens and the police. He headed back home with the exhaustion demanding he sleep.

At that time, Felix had been missing for well over a week; nine days if Locus’s count was correct. An unprecedented amount of time with no contact between the two of time, something that Locus couldn’t seem to forget. He fell asleep on the couch that night, still in the undersuit for his armor, thoughts racing laps through his head: Felix was missing, Babylon was seemingly impossible to pin down, and Locus was being used for his services.

When he woke up, there was a file on his phone.

A file with a title that read ‘Slut begs for mercy.’ Locus stared at it, blood running cold, and told himself he didn’t need to watch this. Whatever it was, and he had a strong idea of what this was, he didn’t need to watch it. He still opened it, staring at through a sleep-muddled gaze. As soon as the picture began to lighten, Locus felt his gut twist and he frowned.

The video opened on a shot of Felix, his back to the camera. He wore no shirt, tattoos visible - as well as bruises that curled over his sides and his shoulders. Felix was positioned in front of a table, hands over his head and held in place by a knife that stood between them. Bandages covered the heels of his feet, dirty and clearly old.

For a few seconds, it was silent. Locus stared at the screen, waiting for something to happen and only wondering why Felix wasn’t fighting against that knife.

The guard entered the shot from the foreground, his footsteps heavy. There was a blade in one hand, something smaller in the other. For a moment, he obscured Felix, and Locus instantly tried to memorize anything that would be useful in identifying this man. The clothes he wore were plain; no markings of Babylon, no signs of rank like those of military uniforms. Just simple grey shirt and tan pants. When the man kneeled down beside Felix, any hopes of actually getting a good look at him vanished. The guard wore a helmet, dark gray with a tinted visor. There was a small symbol on the edge of it, by the visor, but it was impossible to see it from this screen.

Locus was sure of it was anyway. The symbol of Babylon, no doubt.

The guard spoke. “Stay still, slut.” He paused, and Locus heard the barest grumble from Felix. The guard raised his free hand and nudged the knife in the table with two fingers. “You fight and I break this first,” he said, “and then I’ll fuck you with the handle and carve it into your skin instead.” There was no movement from Felix, and the guard traced the knife in his hand over the edge of Felix’s tattoos before sliding the blade into one of his boots.

Locus watched long enough to see the guard pulling a marker from his pocket before standing and making his way to the computer. Whatever the reason for this video was, it didn’t matter. If the bastard behind it kept sending them, Locus was going to use them to his advantage. There were programs on this computer, powerful enough to trace these videos back to their source.

While he was hooking the phone to the computer, Locus found his attention drawn back to the video. He watched the guard write on Felix’s back, right beneath the edge of his tattoos. Locus glanced between his computer and the video as he pulled the tracking programs up and set them to work. It didn’t take that long to start the process.

By the time he finished with the computer, the guard had written ‘fuck’ in large capital letters on Felix’s lower back and was finishing an arrow underneath that. It pointed down; Locus glared at it and the word, seething hatred at the obscenity of the writing. The guard stood, tossing aside the marker he had held and reaching for the knife that kept Felix pinned to the table. He said, “Maybe I should have carved it in you anyway. Let everyone who sees you know that all you’re good for is to be fucked. ‘Course, Locus already knows that, doesn’t he?”

It was the first time that his name had been spoken by this man, and Locus hated hearing it.

The guard said, “You get it, don’t you, fuckhole? Only reason anyone would want to keep you around is to fuck you.” He wrenched the knife out of the table as he spoke, and Felix recoiled from him instantly. As Felix turned, Locus saw the gag tied around his mouth; it was obvious now why Felix would stay so quiet during this. But what drew his attention was the bruises over Felix’s face, skin colored in dark shades of blues and purples. It had to be painful.

The guard reached for Felix, missing entirely. Felix was twisting around, climbing to his feet -

And then the video cut sharply. The new picture was of the guard, wrestling Felix to the floor, sitting atop his thighs. A knife was in his hand. Felix reached up with his cuffed hands, some sort of movement that was surely meant to end in pain with the other man, and the video jumped again. The camera was closer now, Felix’s hands stretched over his head again, barely visible yet clearly attached to something offscreen. His pants had been removed, leaving him lying on the ground naked.

The guard was in the middle of cutting into Felix’s hip. Felix, still gagged, made no noise that Locus could hear. There was only the tense lines of his body to show his rage and pain as the guard sliced into him. It wasn’t until the man spoke again that Locus understood what had just happened. “There we are. Now you match, chink. No girly piercings.”

Locus remembered the previous video, the guard pulling a piercing from Felix’s hips, and the idea that this man was still taking the piercings out was sickening.

There wasn’t even time to focus on that before the video had cut again. The camera was even closer, turned to show more of Felix than the guard, enough that Locus could see Felix’s hands. He had been handcuffed to the end of a cot, his hands gripping the metal frame. There were bruises on Felix’s neck, light but visible. Faded marks of the abuse he faced. The guard was between his legs, rolling his hips slowly and holding onto Felix’s hips; he still held a knife in one hand. He said, “Like that, don’t you, gutter slut?”

Felix growled a reply so vicious Locus could hear the anger muffled behind his gag.

The guard was laughing at him for it. “ ‘Course you do.” For a few seconds, there was nothing but the guard fucking Felix with a slow, methodical rhythm. Rage twisted in Locus as he watched this man reach up, almost lazily, and push the knife beneath the gag. Sliced it apart and then yanked it away.

Felix cursed at him instantly, nearly screamed out, “Fucking _die.”_

“Beg for me,” the guard said. He leaned forward again, head falling into frame. He still wore the helmet. “Like the whore you are.” Both his hands were on Felix’s shoulders and, for now, he had stopped moving. Felix spat and it landed on the visor. The guard ignored it. “Go ahead and beg for your boyfriend.”

“Gonna pull your fucking eyes out,” Felix snarled. “Make you eat them.”

A pause, then the guard was pressing his knife to Felix’s cheek. “Good idea there, fuckhole,” he said. “Beg. Or I’m taking your fucking eyes out.”

Felix didn’t say anything, and for a moment, Locus expected this sadistic guard to start carving out an eye. The blade was being inched closer to Felix’s face as the guard picked up his rhythm again. The guard said, “Gonna have a blind whore,” and laughed. It was an ugly sound, throaty and grating, and Locus’s anger roiled at hearing it.

Locus didn’t think Felix would say anything else. It would be like him to lapse into silence just to spite someone, but then Felix spoke. He was quiet, every word still tinged with anger. He said, “Please,” and the guard pushed into him with more force. “Please… Locus, I…” A pause where he winced for a reason that wasn’t clear, where Locus’s stomach clenched, and then Felix was speaking again. “Locus, save me. Please…”

The words were pitiful, nothing that Locus would have dreamed to hear from Felix. He still stood there, phone in hand now, watching and listening to Felix beg to be saved, for a rescue. Felix said, “Come save me. Please, Locus…. I-I can’t - “

He trailed off and Locus’s blood ran cold. The fury was still there, raging, building into a storm. The guard was fucking him hard enough that Felix’s body rocked with each thrust, and when he spoke again, it was punctuated with a sharp breath. The knife was still hovering by his face. “I can’t get out on my own. Please… I - I need you.”

The guard laughed again, lowering his hand just to toss the knife away. He gripped Felix by the throat then, lightly. “Pathetic little cock whore,” he said. “Want your boyfriend? Too fuckin’ bad.”

Locus watched the guard’s hands tighten around Felix’s throat, watched him move faster. When the man spoke again, it was like a knife to Locus’s gut. “Hey - fuckhole - why hasn’t he come to get you yet?” It didn’t seem to affect Felix at all. He was, as far as Locus could tell, ignoring the guard as much as possible.

The guard said, “Does he care about his little sex slave? Must not, if you’re still here with me.” He took hold of Felix’s hips again then, pulling him up off the floor. “Even if he did find you, isn’t this all you’re good for? Just a toy. Something for someone to fuck.” He said, “You’re just Locus’s little fucktoy, aren’t you?”

Felix said nothing.

“Everyone knows,” the guard continued. “Every single fucking person knows you’re nothing but something to fuck. Your boyfriend? You can bet he knows.” Felix cursed at him and the guard started to fuck him again, so hard it looked like he was slamming their hips together. “Only reason Locus ever kept you around was for this - just to fuck his little snapdragon. It’s all anyone would keep you for.”

The video cut as Felix was screaming another insult, screen staying black for just a couple of seconds. Locus could hear the blood rushing in his ears, the soaring anger at the slurs the guard had thrown at Felix. When the picture came back, it was focused on Felix’s leg; the camera was clearly being held by the guard, and showed a series of cuts. One was fresh and bleeding, the others in various stages of healing. Six in total.

There was something in the first video about these cuts, but Locus couldn’t remember what it was. It wouldn’t be able to get through the haze of anger.

The guard said, “Why don’t you tell your boyfriend what these are?”

Felix answered with, “Why don’t you fuck yourself with that knife?”

One of the guards’ hands was pressing down on Felix’s leg, pushing droplets of blood out of the cut. “These are tallies, Locus,” the man said. Being addressed directly had the strange effect of muting Locus’s anger for a few seconds, long enough to comprehend the man’s next sentence. “I’m keepin’ a record of how many times the little fuckhole takes my dick.”

The video ended on the guards’ laughter, and Locus dropped his phone to the desk’s surface. It felt like he couldn’t breathe, anger clenching his chest. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, thinking of the bruises covering Felix and the obvious implication there.

Working for Babylon was supposed to keep Felix safe. Keep him unharmed.

Whenever that video had been recorded, Felix was still being beaten. Badly, if those bruises were anything to go by.

Locus reached for the phone before he had time to think. His hands were shaking as he dialed Felix’s phone and he willed it to stop, for himself to pull back some of the anger before he had to break something to calm down again. The call was answered on the fourth ring, the voice of Babylon’s Leader sounding bored.

“You aren’t supposed to call this number,” they said. “I call you.”

“You said he was safe,” Locus said. When the Leader didn’t answer him automatically, he kept going. “Felix. He’s supposed to be safe. Are you lying to me?”

“I gave the order,” they said. “No one is to harm him.”

They refused to take him seriously. The rest of the conversation was short, full of Locus’s angry accusations and the Leader’s curt refusal to accept it as truth. They said Felix was safe, he was fine, that Locus was wasting their time. They suggested that maybe he had a bad dream and confused it for reality, and Locus had never wished for the ability to pull someone’s tongue out through a phone call as much as he did with this person.

The phone call left him angrier, the rage building as he squeezed his fingers tight around his phone. It didn’t even occur to him to check the computer. He simply turned his gaze to it and read the single message flashing on screen with a vague sort of confusion.

Signal lost.

Locus stared at the message until realization burst through his rage. The cords connecting his phone to the computer had come loose. He had stopped the video file. There was no way for this program to locate a source if it had nothing to track. For a moment, he considered turning the video back on and letting it run again, but the thought of having to see it - or to hear it - even to know it was being played was too much.

What he needed was to cool down.

He left his apartment again in under an hour, unsure of what he was going to do to ease his anger, but confident in one thing. If Babylon was going to lie and harm Felix, then Locus was not going to follow their orders. He was going to devote the entirety of his time to finding his partner.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for physical and verbal abuse, racial slurs, gangrape, and pedophilic ideation.  
> PLEASE NOTE that this chapter contains a heavy amount of intense, graphic, and extreme abuse and rape. Emotional trauma is involved as well. 
> 
> dear Anonymous Enabler: this is entirely your fault. I hope you're happy with yourself.

Every time Felix breathed, it hurt. Didn’t matter how he sat or laid, shallow or deep breaths; just sharp pain through his chest.

His ribs were bruised and he knew it, had lived through it before. The last time he had been injured like this, though, Felix had been able to take time off. Time to relax and rest, heal up. Time that he had hated because he hadn’t been able to work out or do his job or anything. At least then he had been able to depend on Locus.

Here in this pitiful room, he had nothing.

He tried to ignore the pain by sleeping, but something always pulled him out of it. The soreness from the bruises, the stabbing pains of hunger, and then his ribs. Any sleep he managed to catch was light, and felt like it was hardly more than a few minutes each time.

The door was only ever opened for someone to drop off a tray of food. Never the usual man, and Felix was glad for that alone; the food was a sparse helping of bland vegetables and small chunks of meat, but he ate all of it within minutes of it being there. This happened three times, so maybe three days had passed. A good amount of time since that guard had violated him last, and for Felix to develop this constant dull anger that coursed through his entire body.

People didn’t do this type of thing to him. He was too powerful.

And yet, that guard had pinned him down twice already. Stuffed his cock down Felix’s throat and left a clear threat that he’d do it again.

Left alone, Felix’s thoughts kept turning back to the guard, and he hated it. He laid on the cot, curled up on his side, glaring at the wall and wondering when that jackass would come back, feeling nerves snake down his spine and nest in his gut. It kept him awake much longer than he’d like, but exhaustion won in the end, and Felix slept.

When he woke, it was to hands on his body, rolling him onto his back, and Felix felt a sudden surge of apprehension that it was the guard. He pushed out with his cuffed hands, striking someone’s chest, and froze at the feeling of breasts under his palms. Not his guard, but a woman who was looking down at his hands on her chest until he pulled them back. Another person stood by the cot, looking down at him. “Gonna let him touch you?” this person asked.

“He’s frightened,” the woman said. “I’m not going to hurt him for being scared.”

Felix frowned. “I’m - I’m not scared of you.”

She smiled in a way that was meant to be comforting. “I know. That’s good.” She pulled him up by his shoulders until he was sitting, then sat down in the space behind him. He had no idea what they were doing, not until they started cleaning him. Cool, wet cloth swept over his back, pausing once before continuing.

The fact that he had to be cleaned like this was humiliating. These people acted as if he was some kind of invalid, like he was completely incapable of cleaning himself. But he was tired, still groggy from sleep, and didn’t bother to protest. He was sure he smelled horrible anyway, so if two strangers wanted to spend their precious time making him nice again, so be it. They cleaned and disinfected the cuts on his body as well, smearing something over the small ones on his face that would heal it; a bandage was applied to the healing marks under his ribs, and Felix bit his lip to muffle the painful gasp as fingers pressed against his aching ribs. What they put on his face was applied to the cuts on hips as well, where the piercings had been. They undid the handcuffs to rub a soothing salve onto the raw skin, and then had Felix pull his pants off.

The marks cut into his thigh were completely ignored, but they peeled the bandage off of the brand and replaced the ones on his burned heels.

The woman locked the handcuffs back into place when they finished. As the other person left, she said to him, “Don’t worry. Boss is on the way back, and there’s no way they’ll let this continue.”

Felix stared back at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” she said. She gathered up the supplies left sitting on the cot and left without another word.

He was sure then that he wasn’t going to fall asleep again. He was too caught up in trying to understand why the Leader of this shitty gang coming back would make any difference. To get out of this mess, he had to save himself. It was the last clear thought he had before he fell asleep again, troubling and chaotic dreams taking over.

When he awoke next, it was to that sharp whistle. It broke his sleep to shreds, and Felix opened his eyes slowly. He had to blink several times to even see clearly, listening to footsteps coming his way. There was a residual feeling of dread and anxiety from his dreams that only increased when the guard came into his line of sight. The guard smirked at him and said, “You know what to do, slut.”

Felix didn’t move. He was tired, had planned to use this day to do nothing but sleep, and here was this jackass. He knew that the guard wanted; it wasn’t as if he was stupid enough to forget the bullshit that went with that whistle previously. One of the three marks on his legs was a callback to that. But there was nothing that would make Felix move from this bed just for the sick pleasure of the man that stood before him.

The guard had his arms crossed over his chest, his usual gun on one hip and the knife, Felix’s knife, was strapped to his other thigh. “Don’t make me whistle again,” he said, lowering his voice. “D’you wanna lose more piercings?”

“Go away,” Felix growled. He had brought his knees to his chest without thinking, putting something in front of his aching ribs.

The guard leaned down there, until he was eyeing Felix down from a few inches away. “That not a good enough motivator for you? Alright. Then let’s change some things up.” He grinned and the scar twisted across his face. “Obey me, or I’ll start cutting off toes and fingers. Maybe an ear. Pull an eye out. Cut one of those fucked up ribs right out of your body. And then I’ll take photos of your pathetic body and send all the missing pieces to your boyfriend.”

Felix rolled his eyes and pushed himself up until he was sitting. The guard looked a little pleased, until Felix raised one hand and flipped him off. “Most. Valuable. Prisoner,” Felix said slowly. “If you mutilate me, does your Boss kill you? Is that worth it?” He stretched, wincing when his ribs protested, and then yawned. “Are you gonna leave yet?”

The guard reached forward and grabbed Felix by one arm. He squeezed until his fingers dug into the flesh, and yanked Felix roughly. With his hands still tightly cuffed, just that one motion threw Felix off balance. The guard spoke to him low, threatening: “You really think i can’t come up with a reason I had to cut your fingers off? Why you’re missing random body parts? Boss is really easy to manipulate, just gotta know the right things to say. Like, for instance - ‘The prisoner wouldn’t listen, no matter what I said or did. So I taught him a lesson. By pulling off one of his ears. You can bet he’ll take orders now.’ ”

There was no way in hell anyone was that fucking stupid to believe that.

“Boss told me to break you,” the guard continued. “And I will get away with anything as long as I say it’s helping to make you the most obedient little sex slave on the fucking planet.” He yanked Felix off the bed with one motion, letting go as Felix fell to his knees. “So do what I fuckin’ tell you to before I start breaking bones.”

“What happened to cutting off body parts?” Felix said, staring at the floor. The anger was sparking in his gut again, growing and festering.

“Ohh, it’s a lot easier when you break the bone first. Got to follow the break, but no pesky bones to saw through.” He whistled again, louder than the first time. When Felix didn’t move, he added, “What part should I send Locus first? Think the sight of your bloodied eye would be enough? Or maybe a finger. Let him know his sex toy partner isn’t going to be very good at handling those knives anymore. A useless little fuckhole.”

Felix’s hands clenched tight until his nails dug into his palms. He moved though, slowly shuffling forward on his knees until he was right in front of the guard. He sat back, legs folded beneath him, and raised his head to glare at the guard. The man lowered a hand to his head, scraping through his hair, and laughed.

“There’s a good boy,” he said. “You know how to work a zipper, don’t you?”

The only reason Felix listened was because the guard lowered his hand to the knife on his belt. He reached up slowly, telling himself that this wasn’t a big deal as he undid the guard’s pants. He had given plenty of people blowjobs before, so one more couldn’t hurt. Felix gripped the man’s cock with one hand, feeling the fingers in his hair yanking. The guard told him to go ahead and take his time, and Felix tried to ignore how sick he felt sitting there, slowly stroking the man’s cock. He had to use both hands as the guard became hard; Two hands were more comfortable than one because of the handcuffs.

No matter how badly he wanted to rip this jackoff’s dick right from his body, Felix didn’t move. He glared at the floor, at the wall behind the guard, anywhere that wasn’t this man or his cock. He dropped his hands to the floor when the guard slid into his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as he opened his mouth wider. The guard hummed, a pleased noise, and Felix’s stomach roiled.

Maybe it would be over quickly and Felix could get back on that cot and sleep. An uneasy sleep, the same as before, but at least it’d be without this guard thrusting in and out of his mouth. He tried to choke back the gagging, failed, and the guard only laughed at him.

It was humiliating on its own.

Then there was another voice, out of nowhere. “Holy shit. I didn’t think you were actually telling the truth.”

Felix froze, tension tightening in his shoulders.

“Told you,” the guard was saying. “Trained the little fuckhole good.” He still had a hand on Felix’s head and now he tightened his grip, keeping Felix where he was. Keeping his cock deep in Felix’s throat. “Well… He’s still in trainin’, but he can take dicks real good.”

Even with a dick in his mouth, Felix growled. Like one guard wasn’t bad enough, sure, just parade them all through here. Let everyone see the amazing degradation of their valuable prisoner. The guard thrust into the back of his throat once more before pushing Felix back. While the guard slipped his dick back beneath his boxers, Felix turned to where the other voice had come from. He expected to see one more person, but there were two. Both men, both shorter than the one in front of him - one was practically fat, the other lankier - and Felix glared at them.

“What the fuck is this?” he said, hushed. The guard told him to shut up and he ignored it. “Do you people have nothing better to do? I mean, I know this jackass doesn’t, but come on. Go out. Do something.” Don’t stand there and watch him being assaulted was what he wanted to tell them, but there was no way in hell he’d say it.

The two men ignored him. The lankier one said, “Haven’t taught him to shut up yet?”

“He’s supposed to know how this goes by now,” the guard said. “Guess he needs another beating.”

There was a gun slamming into the side of his face before the guard even finished the last sentence, and Felix reeled from it. His vision blurred and he was trying to force it back into focus when the other, the fat one, spoke. “He’s already covered in bruises,” the man said. “Doesn’t look like beating him is having the effect you want.”

“He’s learning,” the guard said. “See, watch, we’ll give an example.” He kicked out at Felix, catching him in the ribs. “Slut. Go greet them.”

Felix snarled an insult, and got another boot to his aching ribs. He started to push himself up to his feet, and the guard stopped him, told him to stay on his knees. He should be below them, the guard said, whether he’s sucking their dicks or not. So Felix crawled to where the other men stood until he was closer to the table than the cot. When he raised his eyes to them, he glared at each one in turn.

Then one knelt down to look him in the eye, reaching a hand out to grasp him by the jaw. The man’s fingers were cold. “He is pretty cute,” the man said. “Be better if he wasn’t so bruised, but…” He sighed and let go of Felix. “Guess you can’t have everything.”

The other was walking around him, and then a hand landed on his back. A low voice saying, “Goddamn if he isn’t filled with these fucking tattoos.”

Felix recoiled from the touch instantly, the moving fingers too familiar - too like Locus, skating over the tattoos while Felix laid across his lap. Felt wrong for one of these men to remind him of Locus at all, no matter what was going on, and he was crawling away on his hands and knees without even thinking.

Until a foot stomped on his back, forcing him back down. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, cunt?” The guard, that same scarred asshole, dug his heel into Felix’s back. The jackass had moved quick to cross over to them, just to push Felix’s face into the floor. Felix glared at nothing, refusing to answer. Naturally, the guard pushed his heel in harder. “Answer the fuckin’ question.”

Felix stayed quiet until he felt spit landing on his back. Then, with an angry growl, he said, “Nowhere. Going nowhere.”

“Good answer, whore.”

Heavy hands were on his shoulders, pulling him up roughly. Standing on his feet again, Felix had the idea to fight this. It would be so easy to attack; he knew where the weapons were on the guard handling him, at least. The other two didn’t appear to have any on them, but all he’d need to do would be grab the pistol. But, then, if he moved, if he even looked as if he was going on the offensive, then all three of them would attack him. He was sure of that. With his aching ribs and cuffed hands, Felix wasn’t sure if he would be able to kill them all.

What would be the punishment for killing one man? Or two? Would the Leader come and chop off his limbs?

While he was thinking this, the guard shoved him forward until he hit the table. He was pressed into it until the edge of the table was cutting into his gut, and then there were hands on his waist, reaching around him to undo his pants. The other two men started talking, but Felix only heard the usual one, from behind him. “Pity you aren’t a girl,” the guard said. “Would have gotten a lot more guys to come fuck you if you had a pussy.”

So these other two guys were here to fuck him. He had figured as much. Instead of commenting on that, Felix said, “Even if I had a pussy, you’d still be gay as hell.”

The guard spoke to the other men, not to Felix. “Did ya hear that?” he said. “Our toy thinks it’s funny.” He still had his hands on Felix’s hips, underneath his clothing. He ignored the response Felix snarled at him, waving another guard over instead.

Felix didn’t fight it when they grabbed him. Rather, he couldn’t. The regular asshole guard had his hips, the other took hold of his arms, and then Felix was flipped onto his back in seconds. The guard at his hips was yanking his pants down, and Felix shot him a dirty look. The hands on his arms were cold, and when he glanced up, it was into the face of the taller, lanky one. The man leered down at him and Felix shuddered. Then a hand wrapped around his dick.

Ignore it, he told himself. Don’t give any of them the satisfaction of even thinking they could get to him. He focused on the ceiling even with the other guard staring down at him, and only glanced down when a hand squeezed at the cuts in his thigh. The newest ones stung on contact, and that same prick of a guard just smirked, one hand on Felix’s dick, stroking slowly.

“Ready for a fun time?” the guard asked. “Whore like you is sure to enjoy this.”

Felix ignored him, glancing to the third guard, the one that hadn’t come over to the table. That fatass was holding a camera, focusing it on the table, and on Felix. His stomach flipped at the sight of it; anger, he was sure. “Are you fuckin’ serious?” he said. “What is with you and the filming?”

The guard didn’t answer him, letting go of his dick to pull a small bottle from his pocket.

The man holding Felix down said, “Wait, why are you filming this?”

“Gonna show his boyfriend,” the guard answered. “Let him know that his fucktoy is being used real well.” Which would be the same thing he had said before. Same old bullshit with this one.

The bottle in his hand was lube, and Felix watched as he slicked two fingers with it. He stared, rage building, until the guard’s fingers were pressing against his hole. It would be like this, he thought: hardly any prep for him, and rough treatment as the guard opened him up. Wouldn’t be enough, never was, and then Felix would be forced to endure the pain of the guard’s cock pushing into him without any time to adjust to the feeling.

Just like the last two times.

Felix snarled an insult, one that the guard only grinned at. He struggled against the hands on his arms only for fingers to dig into his skin. The jackass between his legs anchored his free hand on Felix’s hip, squeezing as he pushed one finger into him slowly. Felix cursed again and aimed a wild kick for the guard. It connected and in response, the guard simply shoved a second finger in as well.

Fatass at the camera said, “Is it alright if he hits like that?”

“Oh, sure,” the guard said. There was so much smugness in his voice that Felix wanted to puke. “Fuckin’ cunt always fights at the beginning, but once there’s a dick in him, he behaves.”

“Fuck you,” Felix spat. Weak response, but he could barely think for the anger. It was nesting in his chest, cold and white and blaring, threatening to spread through his whole body. That wouldn’t be good at all; if the fingers inside him were already uncomfortable, having that man’s cock in him when he was this keyed up was going to be fucking torture.

More so than it already was, anyway.

The guard told the other one to hold onto Felix tighter, keep a good grip in case Felix fought back. As for Felix, he tried to focus on relaxing his muscles. If he couldn’t get out of this, then maybe he could manage to avoid the pain. The guards’ fingers were inside him, moving in a way that was supposed to get a reaction from him. Once Felix was sure he was as relaxed as he was going to get (which wasn’t very), he said, “Is that supposed to flip a magic switch in my dick to get me to beg for you?” He huffed, forcing himself not to squirm as the fingers searched for the right spot. Better just to lay on the sarcasm thick. “Oh, please, Mister, please, fuck me for all I'm worth."

“Are you being a noisy slut ‘cause you’ve got an audience?” the guard said. A quick glance showed that obnoxious smirk twisting his face. “Of course you’d enjoy all the extra attention. What else from a snapdragon like you?”

Felix promptly raised one leg and slammed his foot into the guards face. The other two reacted before he did - one with laughter, one with a comment on how Felix should be controlled. The tall one had laughed, and he slid one hand down Felix’s arm to coast over his chest. “He’s feisty,” this one said. “That’s good.”

“He’s misbehaving,” the main guard snarled. His fingers pushed violently into Felix and the small noise that was forced out of him made the hand on his chest run over the piercing in his nipple. And then the guard, that fucking asshole, he yanked suddenly on Felix’s balls, hard enough for him to gasp and buck off the table. “I know I said you fight, whore, but get it under control before I snap these off.”

“Makes interesting noises,” the tall one muttered. The hand on Felix’s chest was groping, thumb flicking the piercing in his nipple; the other held fast to Felix’s arm.

The guard between his legs ignored that just to say, “Our little fuckhole is hard.” He was still working his fingers in Felix, his other hand resting on Felix’s thigh now, squeezing. “What was that you said, slut? For me to fuck you?”

“Fuck him for all he’s worth.” That came from the fat one.

Felix glanced toward his voice and glared at the camera. “Another amateur porn vid,” he said. Tried not to think about this being seen by anyone else let alone sent off to Locus. “Fantastic. Gonna be filled with bad angles and -” He stopped as the guard shoved his fingers further in, twisting to hit the exact right spot. Felix repressed the shudder, but not the way his breathing had changed instantly. Embarrassing enough without the quiet gasp that had cut off his words.

Of course the guards noticed. Tall asshole ran his hand down to Felix’s cock, leaning over Felix as he did. He ran fingers over the base of it before grasping Felix’s cock and pumping fast. The fingers in his ass kept moving to hit the same spot, and Felix bit down on his lip, trying not to move or react or do a single fucking thing. He dropped his eyes from the camera, looking away from it and the pair touching him.

When all the hands finally left his body, it was with a sharp order from the usual jackass to stop. No more touching Felix, the man said, not unless it was to hold him down or fuck him. By this point, Felix’s breathing was rough and, once that was noticed, the guards were all having a nice little conversation about how eager he must be. How great he looked, writhing there, and Felix wanted to kill every one of them right then.

His usual guard was still between his legs, running his hands down them. “Listen up, gutter slut,” he said, drawing Felix’s gaze as he spoke. “You’re going to spread your legs open for each of us. We’re going to do whatever we want to you, and you’re going to shut the fuck up or we’ll beat you senseless.” His fingers teased Felix’s ass as he talked, that obnoxious smirk burning. “You’re gonna be fucked ‘til you can’t even see.”

He doubted that.

Fatass cameraman said, “Still don’t get why you get him first.”

“I put the work in to train him,” the guard said in response. He was slipping his cock out as he spoke and Felix turned his eyes away again. His heart was hammering in his chest, panic he refused to acknowledge. Hands squeezed at his thighs, pushing them further open, and then the guard’s cock was pressing against his ass. “Aren’t you glad, fuckhole? You’re gonna start with me, you’re gonna end with me.” He pushed himself in, laughing quietly.

Felix bit the inside of his lip to force the uncomfortable whine back in his throat. He refused to give any reaction, not even a hint that this was too much at once. He wasn’t even sure if the man had pushed his entire length inside, but it was just so goddamn much. What little he thought he had relaxed wasn’t enough, and it was already painful. The guard started fucking him and it was just like the usual: fast, rough, ramming into him. Hands gripped his hips tightly, and then suddenly the guard slid an arm under him, pulling Felix up. Making Felix press their hips together. And all the while the guard fucked him the other man kept a tight hold on his arms.

He was trying to distance himself in any way possible. Don’t look at the guard, don’t make any noise no matter how many pained whines rose to his lips. He made the mistake just once of glancing at the tall man holding him down, and was met with such a predatory gaze that the panic in his gut skyrocketed. After that, Felix dropped his attention off to the side, away from any of these men.

The guard said, “Doesn’t even fight anymore… Just takes it like the whore he is.”

Felix couldn’t ignore the sick feeling at that. He knew he should have fought more, should have attacked. Even if he had just tried to bite one of them, it would have been something, and that was a lot compared to how easily he had let this happen.

Felix’s legs were brought up around the guard’s waist then, hands leaving his hips to grope at his thighs. The guard moved faster, each thrust shaking the table. It didn’t take much longer for the painful noises to slide out through Felix’s gritted teeth, and the guard ate it up. All of them did. He could hear the one at the camera commenting, talking about how great he sounded; the taller one was back to groping at his chest, running fingers over his piercings.

When the first guard finished, Felix was staring intently at a stain on the wall that spread onto the floor. He managed to ignore the noise the guard made when he finished, but not when the hands left his thighs, or when the heavy cock slid out of his ass. Felix’s legs dropped back to the table and that was when he turned his attention back to the trio of guards.

Or at least, the pair of them. The fat one was still behind the camera, near the wall, and Felix didn’t want to look over there, wanted to pretend the guy wasn’t even there. Two of them were bad enough. The usual guard wasn’t even paying Felix attention anymore, but tucking himself away as he moved around the table. The tall one, though, he was still staring down at Felix and it was so goddamn unnerving.

That scarred asshole of a man gave Felix one fleeting glance before he waved for the other to let him go. Hands lifted from Felix’s arms, but were instantly replaced by another set, and then he had that scarred face to look up at. “He’ll do whatever you like,” the guard said.

The taller man was settling between Felix’s legs. Those hands, warmed by Felix’s skin, scraped nails up his thighs.

The guard continued with, “If he doesn’t, we can hit him. He’s a bad little toy, sometimes needs to be reminded of his place.” A pause. “ ‘Sides, I think his ribs are a little fucked. Shouldn’t take much, but… That’s only if he doesn’t behave.”

Felix heard the sound of a zipper, of pants being shoved down, and paid it no attention. Hands clutched at his hips and pulled him into a position the man favored, and then one slid off him. Seconds later, another cock was pushing at his entrance, and still Felix refused to react.

The scarred guard had something he had told Felix once, or twice, maybe more. Told him he was nothing but a fucktoy, and even with it not spoken now, it was echoing through Felix’s head like some special form of terror. It made his skin crawl to think it, and he tried more than ever to distance himself from all of it.

Except there was a cock sitting inside him. Just resting in him while the tall fucker scratched up Felix’s sides. Felix turned his unwilling gaze back to the man and said, “What’s your thing?” He made it sound lazy when he wanted to knee the guy in the jaw. “Can’t keep it up for long so you’re just gonna scratch me? Doin’ it wrong, by the way, you stupid slackjawed fuck. Not supposed to make me want to kick your teeth down your throat.”

The man just smiled. He took his hands off Felix to place them on either side of him, leaning forward. His eyes searched Felix’s face, and then he said, “You’re gonna call me ‘Daddy’.”

Felix actually felt the bile rise in his throat.

The guard holding him sighed and muttered, “For fuck’s sake, man…” and the fat guard somewhere to the left added a snort.

The man was still smiling, not looking away from Felix. That predatory look was back in his eyes, making him look like a legitimate sick fuck hunting down youth, and it made Felix uneasy. He wanted to get as far away from this man as possible, but he couldn’t. Instead, he said, “You have got to be fuckin’ kidding me. Are you joking? That’s disgusting, I’m not callin’ you shit. Go get your rocks off with someone else, you sick son of a bitch.”

The response was instant. The man leaned back and then the hands on his arms left him, and his main  guard lashed out. It was a quick beating, because the blows landed to his bruised ribs despite Felix trying to push away. The second he gasped in pain, the guard pulled his arms back, slammed him down hard and hissed for him to fucking behave. A moment passed, and then the man was running his hands over Felix’s thighs again. “Call me Daddy,” he said. “It’ll be over quick.”

“That’s not something to brag about,” Felix spat.

“I know you think he’s gross and pretty weird,” his main guard said, “but if you don’t call him what he wants, I’m pulling piercin’s out. Might start with these.” He reached out to tug harshly on one of the nipple rings. “Maybe  rip some out of your ears. Do you wanna lose more piercings, chink?”

Felix scowled and forced out, “No.” The glare he sent the guard could have killed someone.

“Then do what he asks.”

This gross tall man, he moved slower than the guard before him, sliding his hands up Felix’s chest and back down to his hips. He touched and he scratched, and Felix tried to do the same thing he had before: Pay no attention to it, distance himself.

Only problem was this asshole kept prompting him to speak. Started with an order for Felix to plead with him, one Felix ignored until the scarred guard reached down to yank painfully on his piercings. He thought about the threat, about how very likely it would happen, and cringed. He had to fight back against the disgust that boiled inside of him, and when he spoke, it was quiet. He had shut his eyes like he could pretend it wasn’t happening if he couldn’t see it. That he wasn’t saying this type of bullshit.

Felix said, “Please…” and the man started fucking him slowly. He added, “...Daddy,” through gritted teeth, and the man moved faster. Still slow, still clearly taking his time and relishing in it.

Every time he moved, Felix felt his stomach churning. Every time the man’s hands moved over his skin, he felt like he needed to pull it off. Didn’t help that he had to keep responding with “Daddy” or, and he was certain about this, he would either have more piercings ripped out or another beating to his sore ribs.

He didn’t want to think about how easy it was to just go with it, to beg and plead and just tack ‘Daddy’ onto the end of it.

The man said, “You like that, you little whore?” and Felix groaned out an answer, a yes, a plea to please, dear god, go faster. He said, “Are you Daddy’s whore?”

Felix wanted to barf in his face. When he didn’t answer, the guard thrust into him harder and repeated the question. He winced, and said, “...Yes. I’m - I’m a whore, Daddy…”

“Daddy’s little whore,” the creep panted. His hands dug into Felix’s thighs, squeezing. There was a faint, demented smile on his face that Felix hated when he glimpsed it. His thrusts were finally starting to speed up, hopefully meaning he was almost done. “That’s it. That’s what you are.” His hands slid to Felix’s waist, holding him still while the creepy bastard fucked him faster. He said, “Beautiful little whore, just right for Daddy.”

This guy finished with a jolt, burying himself in Felix as deep as he could get. He was hunched over, hands relaxing over Felix’s skin, and Felix cringed. He wanted to get away from the man holding him down and the one leaning over him. That creepy fucker was staring at him with a satisfied look in his eyes and had yet to pull out. Felix glared though it didn’t have nearly enough anger in it to be effective.

The only reason the guy pulled out was because the third one, the fat one with the camera, he walked over and said it was his turn now. He handed the camera to the tall one after the man had put his cock back into his pants, and then there was a third man standing between Felix’s legs.

This fat guy, he didn’t seem like he minded going last. He just slid his hands over Felix’s thighs, up and down, before pushing his cock into Felix. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t hit you. All you gotta do is relax for me. Relax and enjoy it.”

Somehow, that sounded just as bad as everything else they had done. Maybe worse.

He wouldn’t. It was asking too fucking much of him to relax for this shit. Just because he laid there and let this man touch him didn’t mean he had to enjoy it, or even focus on it at all. Since this one didn’t instantly ask for him to say or do anything, Felix let his head fall to the side. He looked at nothing, trying not to feel the hands that roamed over his stomach and chest. Large, flat hands that squeezed and pressed down into his skin. Sweaty palms coasting over his ribs and all the bruised skin. Fingers skating over his piercings, up to collarbones, and all the way back down again. And all the while, the man thrust into him slowly and steadily.

The man said, “Fuck…” really quietly. “He’s so fucking soft…”

Felix glanced back to see the fat man leaning over him, hands on Felix’s sides, thumbs moving in slow circles over his bruised flesh. Then Felix was squirming in the man’s grip, straining against the hands that still held his arms. This was wrong. He shouldn’t be touched like this, not by these people, and not while this shit was happening. This man shouldn’t be looking at him like Felix was a voluntary part of this. Like he was seeking Felix’s approval for the slow pace he had set.

The man said, “Hey, now. Told you to relax.”

Felix tore his eyes away, forced them closed. He choked out, “Shut the fuck up.”

The hands slid back to his hips, moving under him to squeeze his ass. “Such soft skin,” the man breathed. “Feels amazing.” He started moving faster as he spoke, pulling out less and ramming into Felix harder. After a few seconds, he started to move his hands again, moving lightly over his stomach. Felix couldn’t stop himself from cringing when one hand landed on his cock, fingers wrapping around him and stroking.

Long slow strokes that didn’t match up with how this man was fucking him. Those gross, sweaty fingers gripped him tight as the man thumbed at the head. Felix groaned - disgust; his skin was crawling, it was so fucking gross - and then this man was talking to him again. Telling him to enjoy himself if he wanted. The other guards were laughing and Felix twisted in the man’s grip.

“Relax,” the man said again. His voice was tinged with pleasure and way too close. Felix turned his head again, trying to get as far away as possible because he was so sure that if he opened his eyes, this man would be right by his head. And that was not something he wanted to see.

Then his usual guard was saying, “Goddamn, you’ve got the whore dripping. Still pretending he isn’t enjoying it, is he?”

“Doesn’t have to pretend,” the man answered. “He’s responding. I can see it.”

“Good. Little fuckslut should be enjoying himself.” The hands on his arms slid up a notch while the guard spoke and Felix could visualize the scarred bastard standing straighter, looking smug as hell.

Felix heard all of it even though he was trying to ignore it. Responding did not in any way mean he was enjoying this, the mismatched thrusting and stroking, the hand that still ran up and down his side. The man’s fingers coasted over his chest, running over one pierced nipple and then the next and Felix tensed even more. He willed himself not to move, not to open his eyes, and for the love of everything holy, not to cum while this was happening.

When all the movement and groping hands stopped, he thought for a second that the guy was through. But then he cracked his eyes and glanced over just to watch this gross, sweaty, fat guard, lean down and lick over Felix’s chest. The noise Felix made was some kind of strangled curse, and somehow it just encouraged the man to start moving again. The sharp thrusts were in time with the man’s quickened strokes on his cock and Felix growled a curse.

He didn’t expect to feel the man’s face pressing into his neck. The gross jackass licked him then, up his neck and back down, whispering in his ear, “You’re so fucking good. Nice and soft.”

Felix twisted in his grip again, wanting to get away more than ever. The hands on his arms were under his elbows now, easy to dislodge, but that guard held on just as tight as the one fucking him.

Somehow, his mind was betraying him and calling up all these buried memories of Locus touching him and licking and biting. He thought about Locus pressing down around him, into him, as the guy fucking him sped up. And now that it had started, these groping hands and the mouth on his neck only reminded him of Locus. It made his gut twist, and Felix felt like vomiting.

Thinking about Locus was wrong. This was nothing like that, not any of those times, but the hand on his cock disagreed and Felix came before he even realized what was happening. He came thinking about Locus, and wanted to rip his own skin off.

The man finished soon after and was slow to pull away from Felix. Once he did, Felix’s legs hung over the edge of the table. When the guard holding him down let go, Felix pushed himself up, trying to ignore the dull burn spreading through his muscles, and the feeling of cum seeping out his ass. He ignored the guards as best he could. They were laughing and the sound was awful, scraping through his ears and ripping through his head. He sighed, rubbing one raw wrist with his other hand, waiting for them to leave so he could fall asleep again.

Then a hand landed on his shoulder and Felix turned his head to look into the sharp eyes of that scarred motherfucker that lorded over him. The guard’s pants were still undone and he smirked, shaking Felix lightly. “You didn’t think you were done, did you?” he asked. “We’re barely getting started, cunt.”

Felix managed a tired glare, wrenching loose of the guard’s grip. “Fuck off,” he spat. “Go fuck each other.”

He expected the guard to hit him again, readied himself for it, but all that happened was the guard rolling his eyes. He took hold of Felix again, yanking him off the table and onto his feet. “On your knees,” the guard said. “Now.” He didn’t even give Felix time to react, shoving him down and forcing him on his hands and knees before kneeling behind him. A hand landed on his back, running over his skin and stopping at one hip. The guard laughed then, and said, “Look, the little fuckhole even comes with instructions.”

The other men laughed. The fat one held the camera again, and he was shuffling forward to get a better angle. Felix saw that camera turn toward him and instantly turned his head away, looking at the floor.

Hatred was swarming in his gut as the guard’s cock pushed into him for a second time. Most of it was directed toward these men, especially that scarred bastard for starting this. But there was a part that was drawn to himself, a small slice of rage that kept reminding Felix that he had stopped fighting this. He had relented and let three different men fuck him, and for what?

He had told himself it was to get it out of the way so he could sleep again. That the exhaustion he felt outweighed the rage and the disgust, and that somehow gave him a reason to stop fighting.

Which was proven now to be bullshit.

Felix was tired, physically and emotionally. Tired of the abuse and the constant anger and panicky feelings that gripped him all day. His muscles ached now, the burn settling deep into his thighs as the guard fucked him hard, and still Felix made no move to stop it. He grit his teeth, let the guard hold onto his hips and thrust into him, and concentrated on not making a sound. The least he could do was withhold the noises of pain at the length pressing deep into him with every thrust of the guard’s hips.

The guard finished inside him again, and Felix released a quiet sigh when the man pulled out. He sat down on the cold floor, leaning heavy on one hip; his ass was hurting now, matching the burn in his thighs. He tried not to think about it, looking warily at the men around him.

That tall one, the creepy one, he was peering at Felix like he was thinking heavily on something. After a moment, he spoke to Felix’s main guard. “So we can fuck him how we like, right?”

The guard nodded. “Oh, definitely.”

“Good.” A small flared on the creep’s face, and Felix’s stomach twisted. As the man started forward, Felix shuffled back, just short of scrambling away. Where he was headed, he wasn’t sure. The man snatched him by one arm, leaning down close to his face. “Come with me,” the creep said, “and give Daddy a ride.”

It didn’t take much to figure out what that meant. The creepy guard pulled Felix to his cot and climbed on down, made Felix watch him pull his cock out and stroke it, and then demanded that Felix climb into his lap. He said, “You want to make Daddy happy, don’t you?”

The only reason Felix didn’t snap the guys head off was because the fat one, still behind the camera, comment on how quiet he was being. If Felix’s silence was disappointing to these assholes, then fine. He was going to stay as quiet as he possibly could, even while moving into this creep’s lap. He did his best to obey, aching muscles and exhaustion both proving to make this simple task difficult. He rested in the other man’s lap, staring blankly at the wall. He didn’t want to make eye contact; this guy made him sick to his stomach for more reasons than violation.

Hands on his hips urged him closer, until their hips nestled together in a way too intimate for Felix to be comfortable with. “Be good for Daddy,” the guard told him, hand creeping up his neck to thumb his bottom lip. Felix felt as if the man were chastising him like a child. His thighs burned and he hunched forward slightly, trying to resist actually touching the guard, but looking to alleviate his aches. The guard’s hands crept over his thighs, squeezing and pulling a quiet groan of pain from him.

Fuck. There went his silence.

Felix swallowed the bad taste in his mouth and tried to push himself forward on his knees before sinking back down. He didn’t speak, didn’t want to be reminded of how disgusting he found this.

“He lost some of his piss ‘n vinegar now that you’ve got him callin’ you daddy.” His usual guard, voice smug and mocking, cut through him like a knife. “Smack him a bit, see if he’ll be a little more lively. Shit, it’s fun when he’s hopeless, but he needs to do it with some fucking energy.”

The guard beneath Felix had no qualms against squeezing his bruised rib, making him gasp and cringe. The sharp pain brought him back, panic beginning to race through him like fire. He ignored the thump in his chest, just urging himself to move before they tried to urge him on with even more pain. He lifted himself up slowly before sinking down, still trying to keep his hands off the creepy guard. Doing this, fucking himself, made him feel worse every time he moved.

“I think he’d look nice in some lingerie,” the man beneath Felix said, musing out loud as he gripped Felix’s hips tightly.. He kept Felix sitting on his dick, started to roll him in his lap.

“Dresses are cuter,” the fat one offered. He was behind the camera, examining it, while periodically looking up to watch Felix.

At that, the other two men reacted at the same time. The one Felix was riding grinned at him, his eyes taking on that predatory look again, and the laughter the scarred arrogant douchebag exploded. The creepy guard said, “He would. Like a beautiful little girl.”

“I could get the slut a dress,” the scarred man said. “Would you like that, whore? Want to wear a skirt for your Daddy there?”

Felix scowled, shifting in the man’s grip. At least now the guard was holding Felix still and thrusting up into him. He didn’t have to make an effort to fuck himself on some gross man’s dick anymore, and that was probably why he spoke. “Wouldn’t be the first time I put on a dress,” he said. “You think that’ll embarrass me or something?” He paused to cringe as the guard started fucking him rougher. “Think you can get a - _fuck_ \- a rise out of me?”

The guard beneath him was moving faster, eyes raking down his body. “Gotta have you a dress,” he said. “My beautiful little girl. All pretty for Daddy.”

Felix knew then that he shouldn’t have said anything. The guards behind him were talking now, asking him who he wore dresses for, who fucked him in dresses. Because, as his main guard was now telling him, Felix would only wear a dress to please someone, to provoke someone into fucking him. The fat one said, “He has a boyfriend, you said. Maybe he wore dresses for that guy.”

Felix thought again of Locus, of how he would, on occasion, put on a dress and lingerie and be lavished for it. He remembered Locus kissing up his legs, gripping his thighs, and sucking Felix’s cock. And he felt such a sudden rush of nausea that he hunched over the guard further, screwing his eyes shut as if that would stop him from vomiting.

He shouldn’t have said anything. The attention he got from Locus when he put on a dress was always so amazing, so much like worship, so worth it every time. Now he had let the guards in on that, and all he could think was that he had given something precious up. He hardly noticed when the guard finished, only opening his eyes when another pair of hands started to lift him up.

There was no break for him, though, barely a minute’s pause before the fat man was taking the other’s place and forcing Felix onto his cock. Like the first time with this man, he moved slow, bringing Felix to a full erection and running his hands over Felix’s body. He urged Felix to enjoy it, using the chain between the cuffs to pull Felix close.

Felix tried once more to ignore it and not make any noise, but irritated grunts squeezed past his teeth as the fat man’s stomach brushed against his cock. The guard finished with one arm around him, sweaty hand pressing into Felix’s back. This time, the fat man had pulled out of him and Felix shuddered at the cum hitting his thigh.

He was lifted off that man just like he was the last, and then Felix was sitting on his cot and wishing he could just lay down and go to sleep. Somehow, the fact that the man’s cum was brushing from his leg to his blanket seemed really important to him as the main douchebag took a seat at the front of the cot.

HIs usual guard was sneering at him, pulling him forward suddenly until Felix was seated in his lap. The guard sat against the wall unlike the other two, who had both lowered themselves onto the cot to stare up at Felix. In this position, Felix was forced to put his arms around the man’s neck, and then to lower himself onto the cock pressing against him.

The man was way too close, his body heat and the smell of sweat and sex dominating Felix’s senses. The fucker was close enough that Felix had to look at the ragged scar over his face and feel his breath as the man spoke. “Don’t make me do it myself, fuckslut,” he said, slapping Felix on his ass.

Felix scowled. He tried to, anyway. It was getting to be too much effort to do anything other than frown. “So eager to fuck someone’s ass, go stick it in one of your pals,” he said flatly. “Sure they’ll love it.” It lacked bite, and the guard only snorted. Hands trailed over Felix’s his hips, and then he was pulled down harshly, until the guard’s entire cock was in his ass.

He couldn’t hold back the startled, pained noise at having been speared like that. Felix wasn’t looking at the guard, but staring at the wall behind him. He still got to see the smirk that twisted his features. “Get moving, whore,” the guard said.

Felix tried, but everything was too sore and the muscles in his legs started screaming again when he tried to push himself up. He only managed to get a couple of inches up out of the guards lap before slamming back down again. That same noise escaped him again, and the guard laughed at him. The man’s hands still rested on Felix’s hips, squeezing tightly. “You can do better than that,” he said. “Be a good little cocksleeve and maybe we’ll be done soon.”

That was a lie, Felix was sure. He didn’t move for a few seconds, muscles still aching and screaming. Even the feeling of the guard’s skin on his was too much, too uncomfortable. Made him want to crawl off into a corner because the only other option was squirming against how slimy it felt to be pressed into the sweaty skin of this guard. But doing that would be worse than what he was being forced to do.

Felix moved, but slowly, forcing himself up as far as he could before his legs started shaking. He could feel the tension in his thighs, exhausted muscles pulled taut again and not given enough time to relax before he was moving again. The guard snarled for him to go faster, to fuck as good as he had for the other two, and Felix’s stomach churned. Going faster meant that he had to touch the guy and he was trying to avoid that.

When he didn’t go any faster, the guard took one hand off his ass, roaming right down to his cock. Felix felt fingers slide over him before one of the piercings on his cock was tugged lightly. He froze instantly, leaning back as far as he could. The guard said, “If I pull on these hard enough, you gonna move?”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Maybe I should pull one out,” the guard continued. He looked up at his gross pals then, grinning viciously. “How much do you think it hurts to pull out a whore’s piercings?” He toyed with the piercing between his fingers again and an involuntary noise shot out of Felix. “Especially these. Bet it hurts like hell.”

In the time it took Felix to start moving again, the guard had pulled on each frenum piercing, drawing noises out of Felix with each one. Hard tugs that made him jerk weakly. He really wouldn’t put past this asshole to rip those piercings out, so Felix forced himself to move faster. It meant he had to find a way for his bound hands to get a grip on the guard, to help himself keep moving and to fuck himself on the guard faster. His own legs were too weak, so he clutched at the guard’s shoulder and tried not to think about it.

The guard’s hands moved over his hips and his sides, not gripping anywhere, doing nothing but pushing into the bruises. As Felix moved, trying to find a pace that was quicker and not as uncomfortable, he felt the guard’s grip loosen to the point where he was sliding between them. It was sickening, and Felix focused on not focusing on it. Just kept moving, shifting in the guard’s lap until the pressure inside him was a little easier to take. He told himself it was to shake the hands off his side but the guard was gripping his ass again, tightly, and Felix was settling into a steady pace.

He heard the other two talking and ignored it, pushing himself up and easing back down, never taking the whole length inside him. The guard spoke again and it was practically in his ear. “Enjoyin’ yourself, cock whore?”

Felix groaned out an insult, and shifted again. The hands on his ass squeezed, and then Felix found himself moving in a way that made him shudder. It was so different to feel something other than disgust and anger that he closed his eyes, concentrating on fucking himself in that exact spot. It wasn’t until the guard was palming at his dick that Felix realized exactly what he was doing. The guard ran his thumb over every single one of the piercings in his cock and Felix shuddered again, hating himself for the ragged moan that spilled from his lips.

He choked out, “Fuck,” and the guard stroked his cock again. “Don’t touch me.”

It did nothing. “Keep moving, slut,” the guard said, voice thick with amusement. He was still stroking Felix, tugging at his piercings with less force now. “Don’t think I said anything about slowin’ down.”

Felix’s arms were shaking when he started to move again. He tried to shift again, go back to something that was uncomfortable, and the guard let go of his cock to hold onto his hips again. The guard pulled him back down, all the way, pushing up so their hips met. Felix bit his lip and he still groaned. That pressure pushing into him wasn’t good, it was painful, too much at once. His cock was hard and dripping anyway.

“You’re gonna fuck yourself,” the guard said. “And you’re gonna do it like you have been. Go ahead and enjoy yourself.” He slid out just to slam back in and the lance of pleasure that shot down Felix’s spine was like his own body was betraying him.

He still tried to adjust how he was moving, and what he got for it was the guard taking hold of his balls and twisting.

“It’s alright, cumwhore,” the guard said, taking hold of Felix’s hips again. “You can think of your boyfriend if you like. Say his name if you want. Won’t make me think less of you.” The other guards laughed at that and he added, “Can’t get lower than you already are. Isn’t that right?”

The grip on his hips meant that Felix couldn’t move other than bouncing on this asshole’s cock. The guard was thrusting up into him, setting a quick pace that Felix was too tired to fight against. Too tired to do anything but let his eyes close and go with it. It didn’t take too long for him to be leaning heavily against the guard, whimpering with each thrust. The guard had taken hold of his cock again, not pulling, just holding on lazily, letting Felix try to buck into his hand and ride his cock at the same time.

But the guard had mentioned Locus and every movement just made Felix feel worse. Guilt piling on top of hatred and mixing together to make it impossible for him to distance himself. He thought about Locus’s reaction if he knew this was happening, if he knew what Felix was letting happen, and felt like puking. Letting the guard make him feel like this was worse than the act, though, far worse. Like he wasn’t just betraying himself, but Locus as well.

That made it worse that he wasn’t fighting back, and that it was feeling good for once.

Felix opened his eyes just barely, enough that he caught movement to his side and, when he focused on it, was greeted with the sight of the camera staring at him. The fat man behind the camera had moved up right next to him to capture Felix fucking himself on this guard. He wanted to curse, reach for the camera and break it, but all that came out was another shuddering gasp as the guard fucked him steadily. The hand on his cock tightened as the guard hit the right spot inside him, and Felix hated how he reacted, how he keened and moaned. He felt the heat in his gut pooling rapidly, and cursed quietly. He came over the guard’s hand and bit down harshly on his lip to stop the cry from spilling out. A wave of self-hatred followed it, nearly as intense as the orgasm had been.

The guard was still fucking him, holding onto Felix’s hip with one hand. He wiped the other on the cot, then reached up to yank at Felix’s hair and pull his head back. Once Felix was looking at him again, the guard spoke. "It's too bad it's not an all out gangbang,” he said, panting, “or we could have someone putting your cockrails to use while someone else fucks your cunt.” He ran his thumb over Felix’s snakebites as he talked, grinning when Felix turned his head away. “C’mon, cumwhore. Don’t be shy, you got a built in guide for cocks right here.”

The insult Felix snarled was ignored, the guard focused on finishing. He slammed Felix down onto his dick again as he came, burying as deep into Felix as he could get. Felix knew that the guard was enjoying the reaction but he couldn’t help the pained expression and the disgust that mingled with it.

At this point, Felix found himself wishing the men would get tired of him and leave. He was thrown off this guard, landing at the foot of the bed where he just laid still. That orgasm had wrecked him, wiping him of whatever small amount of energy he had left. It was the guilt more than anything that left him so drained, and when hands pulled at him again, he couldn’t find the energy to protest at all.

He let the man gripping him bend him over the edge of the cot, let his face be pushed down into the blanket, and barely moved when the man started to fuck him. He was aware of the camera, of the men taunting him, of the one fucking him whispering horrible things to him. The guard said, “Baby girl. Beautiful darling girl, willing for Daddy,” and Felix’s next breath shuddered with disgust. By the time the next man was in him, Felix was halfway asleep. Heavy hands slid over his skin, pushing him down, and he whined as his ribs strained against weight on his back, but that was all he could give. He was simply too tired, too worn out, and sleep was pulling him down like an anchor.

At some point, he must have managed to fall asleep. The next thing he knew, Felix was hitting the ground with a thud, hard enough to jolt him awake instantly. The guards were laughing, of course, taunting him. “Poor guy’s worn out,” one of them said.

For a moment, Felix had no idea what was going on. The cold floor was beneath his face and pressing against his chest and arms, but not his hips or his thighs. It was confusing, for this brief moment. He hadn’t even noticed falling asleep, but waking up to someone’s hands squeezing his hips painfully to keep them up was a good way for him to snap back to reality.

They were still fucking him, these shitty guards. Even though Felix couldn’t feel a cock in him right now, he knew that it was going to happen. He still felt like exhaustion was going to pull him down again, yank him back into the blissful ignorance of sleep.. As he started to close his eyes again, huffing out shallow breaths, a hand wound into his hair and then his face was being dragged against the floor. He groaned, twisting pitifully to try and make it stop.

“What’s the matter?” The grating voice of that asshole guard, thick with amusement. “Is the fucktoy tired? Wanna go to sleep?”

Felix’s answer was a noise low in his throat. Now that he knew what was happening, he wanted to ignore it, for it to stop, to beat this fucker to death until his skull was pulverized.

The guard laughed. “You’re in luck, slut. I was thinkin’ a break might be nice.” He let go of Felix’s head, his other hand was still tight on Felix’s hip, digging in painfully. “You wanna break?”

Felix muttered something that wasn’t even real words. It was too much effort to think of what to say.

“You heard him, guys,” the guard said. “Fucktoy wants a break.”

The hands left Felix suddenly and the ache in his legs became sharper. He could feel his muscles trembling from how he was positioned and he slowly pushed his legs back down, lying flat on his stomach, bound arms in front of his head.

One of the guards said, “I’m going to get food if we’re breaking.”

Felix listened to the sounds of that guard moving, footsteps and rustling of his clothing. He listened to the other guards listing foods, felt his own stomach give a painful lurch at the thought of food, and then the door shut. It was quiet now, but not peaceful. He still expected something to happen, someone to start shoving violently into him again, but all that happened was his eyes closing slowly. It wasn’t even a second later when a foot slammed onto his back and Felix’s eyes snapped open again, air rushing from his lungs. HIs bruised ribs screamed at the pressure and all Felix managed was a whine.

“Break doesn’t mean you can sleep,” the asshole guard said. “Just means we’re gonna eat. Then it’s right back to giving you exactly what you want.” Then Felix was grabbed and turned over to his back, looking up at the scarred face of his guard and glaring. It was a pathetic excuse for a glare and the guard just grinned at him. “Stay awake, chink. Don’t want to waste energy on making you keep those eyes open.”

Felix spit in his face. It took a surprisingly amount of energy but the look of anger that tore that sadistic grin to shreds was worth it. The punch to his already sore stomach was not worth it. At least after that, he was left alone. It could have been hours for him, but in reality it had to have been much less while Felix lay on the ground and the guards ate. He drifted in and out of sleep, his stomach twisting in hunger and forcing him awake. Whatever it was the guards ate smelled disgusting and delicious at the same time and he wanted all of it.

By the time they finished eating, his stomach was churning and he almost felt sick. The guards were laughing, joking, ignoring him, and he dozed again until someone was forcing him on his stomach once more. There was a foot pressing in his back then, and then the voice he hated so much, his main tormentor, spoke to him. “Y’know what, cumslut?” the guard said. He almost sounded lazy. “This turned out a lot better than I thought. You giving up halfway through makes it nice and easy to use you like you’re meant to be used.”

A twinge of familiar anger rose then. Just enough for Felix to hate this man more than ever.

“Remember what I told you,” the guard continued. “You are nothing. You’re a thing, a nice piece of meat. That’s it.”

One of the other guards said, “What are you trying to do right now? He’s barely even awake anymore?”

“Just making sure he understands his place,” the guard replied. The foot left Felix’s back, but then his hips were yanked up again. “You gonna quit and leave?”

The response to that was no, of course not. None of the men were done with Felix just yet, not done with the opportunity to have him lying open and ready for them. Felix sighed, hands clenching weakly, and steeled himself for one of these men to start in on him again.

Instead of a cock, fingers teased at his hole, the guard saying, “Think he’s still opened up enough?” Said it like was a joke, pushed two fingers in as he spoke.

Felix twisted, managed to choke out, “Leave me the fuck alone,” in a breathless voice. He wasn’t sure why he said it; he knew they wouldn’t listen.

It was quiet and the guard still heard it, laughing at him. “You stupid fucker,” he said. “It’s great to hear you begging, but it ain’t gonna stop shit.”

Felix didn’t count that as a begging but a spike of shame still dug in. He never begged. It was giving this jackass too much satisfaction. He lifted his hands still over his head and buried his face in his arms, trying to hide from the humiliation as the guard slid fingers in and out of his ass. The guard jabbed and rubbed against him in just the right way and Felix was panting against the floor before too long. Everything was so sensitive that any movement of the guards’ fingers made him twitch, aching pleasure a dull flame in his stomach.

By the time the guard stopped, Felix was drooling. He couldn’t find the will to stop himself, and it wasn’t like anyone could actually see it. He felt the head of the guard’s cock pressing against him. When the guard spoke, Felix heard it as if it was through a wall: “You better stay awake, fuckhole.”

He couldn’t promise that, even under threat of pain.

The guard pushed into him fast and hard, sinking all the way in and making Felix practically squeal with the pain of it. The guard moved, and Felix whined, high pitched and shuddering. He was aware of the asshole laughing, of the other two talking, but the words and the laughter just faded into background noise. All he could concentrate on now was the painful thrusts, and that his legs were shaking.

It didn’t last long, or maybe he really did fall asleep again. He knew when the guard came just because the man was bent over him, breathing harshly, and then there was a brief moment where no one touched him. The guard pulled out and Felix sighed against the floor. His legs were burning, aching, and he thought he should just lay down.

He did fall asleep then, just slipped away to be woken by someone pushing his legs apart and saying, “Goddamn, he’s like a fucking toy.”

“He is a toy,” another added.

“Just lays there and takes it,” the first finished. “Can throw him around, no problems.”

The guard pushing between his legs was sliding his hands up Felix’s sides. He felt the guy start moving, thrusting into him, and Felix groaned, turning his head to the side again. They had thrown him onto his back again, and the man had to pull his legs up, keeping a hand on one of his knees because Felix had fallen asleep again.

It went like that for a while. Sudden moments where he awoke for a few seconds, confused and feeling a cock inside him, and then he’d fade out again just as suddenly. There was no telling how long they kept fucking him; could have been hours later, they could have switched around several times over. He know he woke twice to one man calling him “Daddy’s little whore”, another time to a different man fucking him slowly and pressing down against him. He had felt the floor digging into his back then and mumbled something that slurred together as exhaustion forced him asleep again.

Then he awoke to a hand on his cock, stroking hard and fast, and he came before he even fully understood what was happening. The cry that rose out of his throat was half a sob, driven out by the exhaustion and the ache and the feeling of such a sudden orgasm making his legs tremble. It was another bewildered second before he realized that though a cock sat heavy inside him, the guard between his legs wasn’t moving. His usual guard, grinning at him with this tired, self-satisfied look that Felix would have hated if he was more awake.

“Nice to have you back, fucktoy,” the guard said. “You were asleep for a while.”

Felix wished he had the energy to get away, but the guard’s hands latched onto his hips and all he did was take in a deep breath. Everything felt heavy, weighted down. “Fuck off,” he said blandly. “Get - get off - “

The guard was moving again, slow rolling of his hips against Felix’s. Didn’t even feel like he was pulling out at all. “You gonna beg me, whore? S’just you and me now, you can say whatever you want.”

Felix blinked, trying to force some of the exhaustion back so he could turn his head and look around the room. No one. The other two men had left while he was asleep. The guard hadn’t stop moving and Felix didn’t think he could have done anything to stop this, not now. He laid there, feeling his back scraping lightly against the floor, listening to the guard’s labored breathing and waiting for it to end.

When it was over, he could sleep. He could drag himself up on that flimsy cot and sleep for as long as he wanted because even as tired as he was, he knew none of these men would want anything to do with him for a while.

The guard pulled out suddenly, pushing himself up to kneel over Felix. Only gave Felix a split second to shut his eyes before the man’s cum splattered against his face.  Felix made a distressed sound, squirming vainly against the floor. His hands were still cuffed, lying against his stomach now, fingers in someone’s cum. He wanted so badly to get away, but his legs didn’t even want to move, the muscles so tired that even twitching one was almost too much of a strain. He laid there, hearing the guard move and the sound of a zipper.

The guard’s hand landed on his face, fingers smearing across his eyes and when Felix opened them, he had to look at that asshole grinning at him again. “Did you have a good time, fuckslut?” he said.

Felix’s only answer was a whimper, quiet and pathetic.

“Yeah, you did,” the guard continued. His fingers pushed Felix’s mouth open, sliding inside and pushing on his tongue. He tasted sweat and skin, and the man’s cum that had been forced into his mouth. “Gave you a good fucking, just what you needed.”

Felix bit tentatively on the man’s fingers, and they shot deeper into his mouth. He gagged, and the guard slid his fingers out just to swipe over his face again. “Stop - “ he started, but the guard shoved his fingers back in and cut him off.

“Lick it off,” the guard said.

Felix raised his hands to push at the man’s arm, but got nothing to show for it. All he could do was gag and swirl his tongue around the fingers in his mouth. He hated it and he hated this jackass for watching him so smugly, but what he hated most was how he just let it happen.

The guard pulled his fingers from Felix’s mouth, and Felix’s arms dropped back to his stomach, and he went back to waiting for it to end. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the guard slid a finger into Felix’s hole and his eyes widened. “What - what are you - ?” He was cut off by another finger joining the first, sliding in easily.

“Still so open,” the guard said. His voice was thick with amusement. “Little fuckhole’s had a good night. You can hear that, can’t you?” He shoved his fingers in harder, curling them inside Felix and pulling out again. In the pause between his words, there was a slick, wet, disgusting noise. “Full of cum. Fitting for you, only goddamn thing anyone can use you for.”

Felix was shaking, so sore and sensitive from the orgasm that had woken him. The fingers inside him felt like so much more, too much, and he still didn’t do anything but tremble as the guard pressed deeper. It wasn’t until the fingers hit that one spot that he reacted. “Stop,” he said, so quiet he barely heard it himself. “Fuckin’ - stop it, _stop_ \- “

The guard laughed, his other hand grasping Felix’s cock and stroking. “Didn’t hear that,” he said.

“Don’t,” Felix whimpered, squirming under the man’s hands. “You fuckin’ - don’t.” His words were useless, the guard only stroking him with more determination. The fingers in his ass curled into him again, pressing against him in a way that made him shudder and writhe, and that was where the guard kept pressure. He didn’t move his fingers, pushed up against that spot, and stroked until Felix was hard again and shaking all over. The burn of another budding orgasm felt like it was searing through his skin and Felix brought his cuffed hands to his face to cover his eyes.

The guard rubbed the head of Felix’s cock with one thumb, lazily, and he whined in response. “Does the fucktoy want to cum again?” the guard asked. “All those dicks and it’s not enough?”

There were tears at the edges of Felix’s eyes, threatening to fall. All those aching, tired muscles were screaming as the guard brought him closer and closer to the edge. “Stop,” he said again. “Please stop. Leave me alone, just stop, stop…” He came out on a choked whimper of “Please,” and heard the guard laughing at him.

In the aftermath, he felt disgust rising like a wave. The guard stood and Felix watched through his fingers as the man nudged his shaking leg. He was spit on, feeling it land on his stomach against the filth already pooling and drying, and fuck, he was so goddamn disgusting. The guard knelt beside him, told him he was getting one mark for each man, and then Felix felt the blade of a knife digging into thigh.

He didn’t pay attention to the guard leaving, forcing himself to roll onto his side and then his hands and knees. His arms shook, his legs did as well, and he was dripping the cum of three different men as well as his own. Felix forced himself to crawl to his shirt, the first piece of fabric he found. He raised it his face, wiping until he thought he was clean, then repeated it on his stomach. His bound hands wouldn’t let him reach behind him but that was alright, he wasn’t sure he could do that anyway. He just collapsed on his side, curling his aching legs to his chest and taking shallow breaths in.

There was probably some of that jackass guard’s semen in his hair, probably still on his face, but Felix was too exhausted to try and clean up anymore. Every part of him ached and his legs burned as if they had been set aflame. So did his back.

It was over, but now he was thinking back on this whole fucked up situation.

He hadn’t done much of anything to fight back, to stop this before it had happened. Tears fell now and Felix let that happen too. Letting this happened, letting the guard ever lay a hand on him to begin with was pathetic; he had let these people make him weak and now he couldn’t stop it.

There was cum in his ass and in his hair and it was disgusting.

He was disgusting.

Felix brought his cuffed hands to his face again, wiping under his eyes. Even crying made his chest burn and his ribs throb, each broken sob clawing up his throat and dying on his lips. He fell asleep curled up on the floor, naked, sweaty and reeking of sex, with one thought chasing itself in his mind: He was disgusting, filthy, weak and powerless and so fucking disgusting.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS -- mentions of past rape and abuse; sexual assault
> 
> as a fun side note, don't post things when you're tired. you forget things until nearly an hour later. like warnings that are supplied with each update to a story that needs them.

There was a woman in his room, frowning down at him. A tall blonde woman, all her hair pulled back in a bun. She was dressed in black from head to foot, an outfit that looked bulky though practical; there was a gun on her hip and another on her back, and various tools clipped to her belt. She looked angry, but when she spoke, it was soft. “Can you stand?” she said. There was a slight accent to her voice, enough to tilt her words.

Felix stared at her, still curled on the ground. This didn’t feel like reality, more like he was stuck in a dream. Every part of him either ached with a dull pain, or felt weighed down. Except for his ribs that pulsed with pain when he did so much as take a breath. When he didn’t react, the woman sighed and leaned down to grasp him by one elbow. Felix stood with her help, legs throbbing with pain. “Who are you?” he said. “What do you want?”

The woman said, “Can you stand on your own?”

“Of course I can.” He wasn’t that sure, though. When she released him, he swayed before forcing himself to stand straighter and ignore the ache in his ribs as he did. It crossed his mind then that though he was standing there naked, this woman didn’t seem to mind at all. He watched her unclip something from her belt and raise it to her face - a camera, he thought. This woman had a camera and was now snapping pictures of him. He glared and she ignored him, stepping around him to photograph his back. That guard’s repulsive writing was still on him, and he was sure that someone’s dried semen still stuck to his thighs. Things that bothered Felix, made his gut roil as he remembered what he’d been put through.

The only time the woman touched him was to force his legs apart further. He felt a hand touching his inner thigh where the brand had seared into his flesh. A second later, one finger ran over the marks cut into his other leg. The woman cursed under her breath and said, “What are these for?”

Felix said nothing, struggling to find a good enough way to tell this woman to fuck right the hell off. After a few seconds of silence, she said, “Never mind, then. We’ll find out why soon enough.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I’m going to interrogate your guard,” the woman said. She circled back in front of him, lifting his face up with two fingers on his chin. Felix jerked away from her, glaring. The woman stared him down with a fierce, angry gaze. “Look, Felix,” she said, irritation puncturing his name. “Unlike the rest of these idiots you’ve met here, I am not going to let this happen to you. You can either work with me now and make it a lot easier, or I can do all of it on my own.”

“You’re not making a lot of sense,” Felix said. Talking didn’t feel like the best idea right now; too many words too quickly, and he had to pause for breath, had to feel the pain in his ribs grow. He took a step back from her, frowning when his leg shook from the effort. There was still pain throbbing in his thighs. “If you want me to help you with anything, maybe you can start by being clear with me. We can start with who the fuck you are?” He paused just as she raised the camera in her hand and took another picture of him. “And why the hell are you taking pictures of me?”

“My name is Jenna Malkova,” she said. The camera, she clicked back onto her belt, resting her hand on the pistol at her hip. “I’m the head security escort for Babylon’s Leader. Those photos of you will be used to debrief them on - “

“Them?”

“The Leader doesn’t care for gendered pronouns,” the woman, Jenna, said. “So, yes. Them. I’m going to debrief them on your condition. And while I’m doing that, you will be cleaned up and redressed. You have to look nice to meet with them - they value you a lot, Felix, and I’m sure they’ll help you out of this situation.”

His first instinct was to say he wasn’t in any kind of situation at all, but it was clear how big of a lie that would have been. What he said instead was, “I don’t really need the help of the people who are holding me prisoner.”

Jenna frowned, but didn’t address anything he said. She told him that after he was cleaned, he was to be dressed. “You have new clothes,” she added with a nod to the table and the boxes on it. “A gift.” After he was ready, Felix was going to be taken to Babylon’s Leader to talk with them. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

He kept his eyes on Jenna until the door shut behind her, and then turned back to the cot. The blankets were still a mess from the day before, from how many times he had been fucked on top of it. Felix fought to push back those memories as he sat down, wishing the ache flowing through his body wasn’t such a strong reminder. He didn’t want to think about what had happened, wanted to forget that yesterday had ever happened. Sleep seemed like a good idea to forget it, up until he thought about lying down where one of those guards had forced him to fuck them.

Felix was still sitting when the door opened again. Three people entered, one pulling a cart as they entered. There were buckets on that cart, rags, and a plastic container that Felix couldn’t see into. He watched two of them pull on gloves as the third went to fill a bucket with water in the bathroom. “I’m not that dirty,” he said  when the first one approached him.

This woman was one who had cleaned him before, he was sure of it. She smiled at him but said nothing, just stood where she was until there was a bucket of water placed at her feet. And, once again, Felix sat while people rubbed him down. They said nothing about the tally marks and the bruises; one of them put something in his hair, some kind of rinse-free shampoo, and scraped against his scalp as they did.  One of them even shaved his face and trimmed his hair before they pulled him up to his legs. When they pulled him to his feet, one held him upright with a hand on his shoulder. None of them said a thing about having to scrub dried semen off of his legs.

The pulsing pain in his legs returned as he stood and Felix grunted, clenching his jaw shut. If standing was such a chore, walking was going to be fucking awful.

They helped him dress then, popping off his handcuffs to put him in an outfit that mirrored exactly what the guards had worn. A part of him was sickened as he pulled on the dark uniform, but he ignored it. Having clean clothes on again felt better than he had thought possible. The uniform came with a pair of heavy boots, and the shirt was long-sleeved. He pulled it down as far as possible, over the raw skin left by the handcuffs.

He had a brief moment of enjoying life without handcuffs, and then someone was locking them back into place. One of these people shoved him forward and he just stumbled a few steps and stopped. The burn in his legs twisted his muscles and crawled up his back.

“C‘mon,” one of them said. “Move or we’re going to drag you out.”

Felix sighed. “Where the hell are you even taking me?” he asked. They pushed him again and he moved, forcing his feet. Two of them fell into step with him as they crossed into the hall, one on either side. The third must be cleaning up what they had left in the room. “Does your Leader have a banquet waiting for me?” He kind of hoped so. Underneath the burning pain, he was awfully fucking hungry.

“Just shut up,” was the only answer he got. None of them would respond to anything he said, leaving him to be guided through the halls. They even took him up a flight of stairs, and he hated how weak he felt just climbing them. The hall on this floor was hardly different than the first; more people walking through and more noises drifting out of closed doors. A lot more light and windows on the walls as he was steered around. He didn’t get a look through any of those windows, the people he was walking with pulling him to a closed door.

There was a woman in front of the door, the one from earlier. Jenna. Felix narrowed his eyes at her, frowning, but all she did was duck into the room. She was back in an instant, holding the door open. “Take the cuffs off and leave,” she said to the one that pulled Felix through the doorway. “They want to talk to him alone.”

The person was holding his arm, keeping him at the threshold of the room. Both Jenna and this person stood in Felix’s way, blocking his view of the room. The one holding him still said, “Shit, Jenna, you sure that’s a good idea?”

Jenna raised her head an inch to look down her nose. “Do _you_ want to question them?”

That was enough, it seemed, for this person to unlock Felix’s wrists and leave the room. Jenna glanced at Felix for a second before following, and the door slammed shut behind her. Felix heard the lock snap into place. Even with his hands free, he wasn’t going anywhere. He turned slowly to face the rest of the room and took a deep, steadying breath that he instantly regretted. It felt like he had been stabbed right in the side.

This room was almost empty. There was a large table in the center of it, and a series of computers and screens along the right wall. On the other wall was a large framed piece of art and no other doors.

At the table sat the Leader, hands resting on a reader in front of them. They were watching him, and once he met their eyes, they said, “Come here, Felix.”

He hesitated before moving, but since there was nowhere for him to go, he had to listen. He reached for a chair far from them first but they stood, walked over to him, and forced him into the one beside them. It gave him a good view of the large screens on the wall, a security system, he thought. But it was a bit too close to them. The chairs swiveled. He found that out when the Leader turned their entire chair to face him. Their knees brushed his thigh and Felix fought the sudden recoil from such a light touch.

“Look at me, Felix.” They spoke quietly, but with a voice that commanded. A voice that was used to giving orders and having them obeyed without fail. He hesitated, but glanced over at them. The Leader had dark eyes that bored into him, and long hair that fell over one shoulder. Strange that he hadn’t noticed before just how long their hair was. “Jenna told me your assigned guard has been abusing you."

Felix ripped his eyes from them, staring down at the smooth table before him. Slowly, feeling their eyes on him and knowing they were waiting for him to say something, he set his hand on the table. It was cold. He spread his fingers, trying not to focus on the red skin circling his wrist.

“We need to face this problem,” the Leader said. “Talk to me.”

Felix said nothing. He had his other hand on the arm of the chair he sat in. It was surprising how nice it was not to be cuffed for once, to be able to stretch his hands apart. Made a nice reason to ignore what the Leader was saying, too.

After a few seconds of silence, the Leader sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, Felix saw them spin their chair back to the table. He looked over to watch them pressing fingers to the reader in front of them, and then the screens sparked to life on the wall and his attention snapped there.

He wished he hadn’t looked.

The only thing on every screen was him. Had to be those photos that Jenna had taken of him, pictures that showed bruises and cuts, and the word ‘FUCK’ scrawled on his back. Felix looked for only a second, and then averted his gaze again. His hands had tightened into fists, the one on the chair gripping it tight enough to turn his knuckles white. His chest felt tight, something hot and angry pulsing behind his eyes. He hadn’t expected to feel such revulsion at looking at himself, at how he looked after those men had finished with him.

It was sickening.

The Leader was silent as well, and he had the feeling they were watching him.

It took an alarming amount of effort to say anything. “Can you just… just take it off? Fuck - take the pictures down.” It was like pushing words through a brick wall. He hated seeing it, hated that anyone else had seen him that way, hated the Leader for throwing it back in his face. When the light from the screens flickered off again, Felix looked up.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” the Leader was saying. “For this guard to be punished, you have to tell me what happened.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Felix said. He was staring at his own hand as he forced it flat against the table again. His chest still hurt but that might be his ribs again. “You’ve got photos.”

“Photographs do not, unfortunately, count for much.”

Felix would have said otherwise.

“Give me anything I can use,” the Leader said, persistent.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. There wasn’t a bone in his body that wanted to tell this person, or anyone else ever, what had happened to him. He wasn’t even sure if he could have told Locus.

The Leader made a small, disapproving noise then. “Believe it or not,” they said, “but I want to help you. I want you to be safe - “

“You kidnapped me,” Felix snapped. He twisted his head to look at them, saw the carefully neutral expression they wore, and glared. “You burned a brand in me, you told your men to beat me. None of that sounds like you want me safe. So fuck off.”

The Leader still looked calm, and for some reason, that was making Felix angrier. He wanted them to react, but all they did was lean back in their chair, tilt their head and sigh. “I haven’t made things clear enough, have I?” they said. “Of course you wouldn’t be happy with me. I haven’t done much to prove myself as an ally to you.”

Felix could feel the anger boiling in his blood but all he did was hold their gaze steady.

“I sent my men to capture you,” they said, “and yes, I had them beat you. But that wasn’t for me - it was for your partner.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Your partner was very reluctant to work with me,” the Leader said. “Locus forced me to harm you. I never intended to hurt you, Felix, not until Locus told me he wasn’t going to cooperate. I had to do something, you see, or else I would have to give you up.”

He was staring now, openly, dumbfounded expression across his face.

“I don’t intend to let you go,” they said, voice dropping. “I’ve been searching for you, Felix. And now that I found you, there’s this pesky partner of yours that I have to keep busy and he is very stubborn. Even with you in perceived danger, he tests me.” They paused, a smile flickering to life on their face. “I do want you safe, and comfortable, and unharmed. Anything I’ve had done to you is for business, and I regret having to put you through it.”

For a second, Felix wasn’t sure what to say. Not a word of that sounded like it made sense, definitely not anything they said about Locus being the reason he was like this. What he was stuck on, though, was that admittance that they weren’t planning on giving him back. He wasn’t supposed to get out of here and the thought caused his anger to skyrocket. “You’re out of your fucking mind,” he said, rage soaking his words. “You can’t keep me here. I will get out of here - “

They interrupted him: “How are your ribs?”

Felix floundered for a response again, thrown off what was going to be a promise of their death.

“Jenna said you were weak,” they continued. “Though perhaps that has to do with what you’ve endured? She did mention your ribs, I remember that. Said you didn’t like for her to touch them.”

Did Jenna even get close to his ribs? She took so many photos of him, put her hands on so many bruises, but surely he would remember if she touched something so sensitive. “My ribs are fine,” he said.

The Leader responded by moving so fast he barely had time to react. They knocked one of his hands aside when he lifted it to stop them, and grasped the other by the wrist. With their other hand, they pressed down on his ribs and squeezed. Felix gasped, whining when they pressed down harder. “Stop!” He spit the word out through gritted teeth, tense from the pain. “Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

They kept pressure on his ribs, leaning close to him. “I don’t think you’ll make it far,” they said, pushing against his ribs until painful tears pricked the corners of Felix’s eyes. “Your best chance for safety lies with me, Felix.”

“Fuck you.” It came out on a breath that felt like fire. “Fuck. Off.” They hands were still on him, though they moved from his ribs to reach for his face. He flinched, wincing when his ribs protested again. The Leader wore gloves that scratched against his skin when they turned his face up to theirs.

“I wish you would work with me,” they said. “I don’t want to hurt you.“

“You’re a piece of shit,” Felix snarled. It was weak, both the insult and his voice. His ribs hurt too much, the pain dominating his brain and making it hard to focus.

“I’m sorry, Felix,” they said softly, “but you made me do it. It would be better if you would tell me the truth.” They were silent for a moment, running their thumb over his jaw before pulling their hand away. Their fingers trailed over his skin before leaving entirely, and Felix wanted to scrub his skin off where they had touched. They folded their hands in their lap and smiled at him, as if nothing had happened. “So, Felix. How are your ribs?”

Felix glared at them again, holding a hand to his ribs. It hurt to even touch them now. “Bruised,” he said. “At least three.”

They nodded. “Would you like for me to take care of that for you?”

He paused, not sure what that meant. “I - what?”

“A medic,” they clarified. “I can have someone here to help you in ten minutes.”

Felix let out a shaky breath, hand shaking where it sat over his ribs. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’d like a medic.”

The Leader didn’t move. They looked at him as if they were waiting for something else, and Felix frowned.

“I want you to get me a medic,” he said slowly.

That worked. The Leader turned from him again, reaching out for their reader. The photos of Felix were still up and he watched as they flicked that away, pulling up something else instead. Without looking at him, they pressed something on the reader and, seconds later, a voice was coming from an unseen speaker. “What is it?” A woman.

“I need a medic as fast as you can get one,” the Leader said. “Tell them Felix has bruised ribs and needs plenty of pain medication.” The woman on the other line assured them one would be sent soon, and then Lahja looked at Felix and raised one hand. When he flinched from their touch, they froze, hand outstretched. “I’m not going to hurt you,” they said. “I would never hurt you.”

Felix didn’t respond. He kicked at the floor with his feet to turn the chair as far from them as possible, hating the twinge in his thighs. He had managed to forget about that. Thankfully, the Leader didn’t try to talk to him again, and he didn’t feel them touch him. He stared at the wall by the door instead, wishing he wasn’t in so much pain. He could conjure up images of him killing his way out of this place, but it made something deep inside ache in longing and he hated it. So he ignored those thoughts just like he was ignoring the Leader.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the door cracked open and Jenna leaned inside. She didn’t even look at Felix. “I found the guard,” she said. “Do you still wish to talk to him?”

“Of course.” The Leader’s chair made no noise as they stood, but their footsteps were heavy and loud. At the door, they looked back at Felix. “I’ll be right back. Hopefully we’ll have more to talk about then.”

Felix glared at them as the door shut behind them. The silence in the room was even heavier and after a moment, he rose to his feet and shuffled to the door. It was an awkward gait, influenced by the relentless ache in his legs and the pain in his ribs. It almost made him feel like an invalid. At the door, he cracked it open just barely, just enough to look through with one eye.

In the hallway, he could see Jenna and the Leader both standing with their backs to the door. Past them was the guard, that infuriating jackass, and Felix was glaring at what little he could see of that man without noticing. As far as he could see, there was no one else out there, which was probably why they hadn’t bothered to go anywhere else to talk.

The three of them were talking in quiet voices:

“You know what your job is and you went too far,” Jenna was saying.

“I only asked you to watch him,” the Leader added. “This is not what I meant.”

And then the voice of his guard, sounding lazy and smug. Hearing it was like nails down Felix’s back. “Look, it isn’t my fault, alright? The guy’s a whore. He tried to seduce me when I captured him - “

“That doesn’t mean you can do this,” Jenna said. Her voice was sharp, dangerous. “There is no reason to do that to anyone.”

“It’s what you want from him, isn’t it?” the guard said. It didn’t seem like he was listening to anything Jenna was saying. “You want him to submit to you? I’m helping with that - “

“Raping someone is not helping,” Jenna snapped. Her voice rose and Felix flinched back from the door, heart pounding for a reason he couldn’t understand. He drew back the door to the point where he couldn’t see, but could see hear her talking. “There is absolutely no excuse to be such a sick human being, and if you don’t have a good reason for it - “

“Jenna, calm down.” The Leader still sounded calm. “We’ll take care of this - “

“I will not work with people like this,” she said.

“If you’ll listen to me” -the guard’s voice, irritated, still smug- “I got a reason for what happened.” Silence, just for an instant, then - “He wanted it. He fucking begged me for it. You really think I would have touched him if he didn’t want any of it?”

Felix didn’t listen to anything else. He shut the door with one hand, making his way back to the table and collapsing back into the same chair. Fury, so hot it almost numbed him to everything, flooded through his veins and pounded through his hair. His eyes burned and his hands shook, but he couldn’t even do anything about it, about the guard, about the bullshit being said about him. He sat there, head bent over the table and hands curled into his hair, and heard that guard’s voice like on repeat.

To think that anyone could believe he had wanted this was unbelievable, but that was all he could see happening now. His life was so fucked already, why not make it worse?

The door opened without him noticing, but when he raised his head, it was Jenna walking to his side. She looked just as pissed as she had sounded. “Did you hear?” she said when she was standing beside him.

Felix didn’t answer, wasn’t sure if he could. Each breath he took seared down his throat and his hands were still shaking when he lowered them to the table.

“I heard the door close,” Jenna said. “I’m sorry if you had to hear that idiot - “ She paused, sighed, and said, “I know he’s lying. I’ll do what I can for you, Felix.” Another silence pause, but Felix wouldn’t allow himself to say anything now even if he could find his voice. “The medic is outside. I told La  - the Leader that I was getting you ready. I’d say you have a few seconds before both of them are here.”

A few seconds to compose himself then. To find his voice and stop his hands from shaking, just a few seconds to pretend like he hadn’t heard a thing.

Jenna said, “Stay strong,” so quiet he barely heard it.

Felix took one deep breath, cursing as his ribs groaned, and then heard the door opening again. He didn’t need to look, but he glanced back anyway to watch the Leader holding the door open for another plain clothed medic. They met his gaze with a smile, but he ignored it. There was a knife pushed through their belt, glinting in the light, and Felix finally found his voice. “That’s mine,” he said. His voice was steady, and he was glad for that. “That’s my knife.”

The Leader said, “It is. I’ve taken from the guard.”

There had to be something else to that, a reason to take it, but the Leader didn’t give him time to ask. They told him to take off his shirt, let the medic examine him. Felix was reluctant to listen; he didn’t want to have someone see him like he was, with the bruises and the nearly healed cuts. He didn’t want the medic, or anyone else, to find the obscenity scrawled on his back. He had too, though, to get any sort of relief from the pain of his ribs. The instant he stripped the shirt off, the Leader was focused on him, their eyes going down his bare torso as if to leave tracks in his skin. He hated it, just the feeling of their eyes on him.

There was paranoia as the examination started, insisting that the medic would spy his back. It strengthened when fingers pressed gingerly against his ribs, skated over the bruises.

Nothing happened. The medic gave him pain pills and a water bottle, asked the Leader to send for ice packs. He was to rest, according to the medic. No more beatings, nothing rough, nothing that would cause more pressure and pain to him. Felix would have been relieved, if he believed that would actually happen.

When the medic left, Felix was quick to pull the shirt back on. He stood there, staring at the floor and waiting for something to happen.

The Leader spoke after a few seconds, soft and gentle. “It looks worse than the pictures led me to believe.”

Felix tried to keep them out of his line of sight. It wasn’t working so well.

“You are going to punish that man,” Jenna said. It was the first thing she had said since the Leader had come back into the room, and she still sounded pissed.

“I will,” the Leader agreed. “As soon as I decide on something fitting.”

Felix thought there was pity to that whole exchange, and that cause anger to unfurl in his chest. He didn’t want pity, didn’t want these people to feel bad for him. Not when it was them who had put him through it. He flicked his gaze to the Leader to glare at them, wanting to burn that look off their face. Because they did pity him, it was obvious in the way they looked at him.

“Got a suggestion,” he said quietly, “for a punishment. Kill him.”

The Leader tilted their head an inch, frowning. “Thank you, Felix, for your input. But I didn’t as - “

“Kill him,” Felix repeated. “Or let me do it.” When the Leader didn’t do anything he raised one hand to gesture to his knife stuck in their belt. “Give me that. Put me in a room with that fucking asshole - that goddamn piece of shit - “ His voice was rising, shaking with anger, and he couldn’t stop it. “I’ll do it. I’ll kill him and I’ll make it hurt. It’ll be worse than anything he’s done to me, I can promise that.”

He would make that guard regret ever looking at him, ever touching him. Even though he wasn’t sure how, Felix would follow through on that promise. He would find a way to put the guard through such horrible pain that it would cancel out what had been done to him.

He was trembling again, he noticed, his whole body shaking just from thinking about the guard. About what he had endured in the last day alone, and Felix silenced with a growl. He was aware of the Leader staring at him, of Jenna moving from where she stood, but he didn’t do anything until the Leader was walking to him. He watched them reach for him and jolted backward, snarling, “Don’t touch me.”

The Leader paused, then reached for him again. Their hand landed on him and Felix’s heart gave such a start he thought it’d break his ribs. He twisted, his ribs protested, and Felix let out a painful wheeze. He pulled in their grip and they said, “Jenna, get the handcuffs.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Felix snapped.

They ignored him, keeping his arm in their grip. Felix looked between them and Jenna frantically as the Leader forced the handcuffs back on him. When the cuffs locked into place, it was almost like he had been sentenced back to hell. The Leader was still staring at him, one hand kept on his arm, running up to his shoulder now. They said, “Calm down, Felix,” and he spat another curse. “It’s only temporary. I’m taking you away from here, to a place where I can keep you safe. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The Leader made a face. “I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t want your help. I want my knife.”

“You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!”

The Leader touched his face and Felix recoiled from it. “You’re shaking,” they said. “I know you’re afraid” -Felix protested and they ignored him, kept talking- “I know that what’s happened to you is upsetting, but you have to work with me here. I will help you, Felix, but you have to make my job a little bit easier than you are right now. When you calm down some, we can talk about this - about your guard and what he’s done.”

There should have been a lot to say, but Felix seemed to have lost the ability to speak yet again. When he took a breath, it caught in his throat. The Leader ran their fingers over his cheek and Felix screwed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to look at them as they touched him, nor at Jenna. If she was even still there; she wasn’t speaking, had barely said anything since the Leader came into the room again.

The Leader ran their hand through his hair before letting him go and Felix collapsed back into the chair behind him. He sank into it, trying to take calming breaths and failing. Jenna was still there, standing by the door, watching. She had a brief conversation with the Leader, called them something that sounded like ‘la ya’ and then the Leader was leaving.

Jenna met his gaze then and said, “You’ve got roughly twenty minutes before they come back. We’re taking you on a plane to another base - and don’t worry about the handcuffs, okay? It _is_ a temporary thing.” She paused, sighed, and added, “Just try to compose yourself. You don’t want them to see you cry.”

He wanted to ask what the fuck that meant. He wanted to say he wasn’t going to cry, but when she left and the door shut behind her, his next exhale was a broken sob. He hunched over in the seat, raising his cuffed hands to his face, and heaved great breaths that pushed at his aching ribs. There weren’t a lot of tears, and he was glad for that, but he was still shaking, still so angry that he wanted to break someone in half.

But he couldn’t. There wasn’t anything for him to do but sit and wait for his captors to do with him what they wished.

* * * * *

The plane he was taken to was a sleek private jet, with enough room inside to host a fancy dinner party. Felix was seated in what must be the main area of the jet, in a plush warm seat with a window beside it. All the window showed was an expanse of fields stretching on. There was a table near him too, but he couldn’t use that; his hands were still cuffed and the person that escorted him onboard shackled his ankles to the chair.

Felix said, “if this jet crashes, I’m going to die,” and the person chaining him down laughed quietly. No one else came near him, barely even glanced at him. There was only three of them, including the one that chained him down, but it was enough to cement how invisible he was to these people. That was fine with him; it couldn’t have been more than an hour since he was taken from the dingy cell, barely twenty minutes since he had broken down in that security room. He was pretty sure his face was still a little red, but that was impossible to see under the bruises anyway.

He had been sitting there for only a few minutes when another pair of guards walked by with a third between them. Felix glanced up just long enough to identify the scar on the man’s face and then turned away. That was his guard, on the same plane he was, which surely meant that wherever he was going, he would still be watched by that jackass. His gut clenched at the thought, something painful gripping his chest, but he ignored it. Felix forced the panic down and turned as best he could to watch as the guard was led through a door at the back.

Good. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to look at that man on the plane ride.

It was a short lived relief for Felix. He had only just managed to calm himself down again when the seat beside him was taken by the Leader. They gave him a small smile, one that Felix met with a wary frown. Figured that as soon as one creepy fuck was taken away, there would be a new one to watch him.

Thankfully, the Leader didn’t speak, not to him. They spoke to the uniformed men and women strapping in for a flight. They spoke to Jenna as she took the seat across the aisle. They left Felix to stare out the window as the plane took off. He watched the fields pass by, caught sight of the town that stretched into a city, and dimly wished he had gotten a good look at where he had been held.

The Leader didn’t talk to him until the plane had reached an altitude so high it made the city below look like patchwork. They said, “Are you enjoying the view?”

He considered not answering. As it was, he responded by raising his cuffed hands and shaking them. Surely the clinking chain was enough.

The Leader made a small noise. “Yes, those. I can’t take them off while we’re on the plane. Once we land, and you’re situated, then perhaps.”

That was almost as good as a no. Felix said, “Where are we going?” rather than push the issue with the handcuffs.

“To our main base.”

Felix frowned, turning to look at them. That sharp-eyed gaze was trained on him, and he felt a subtle wave of repulsion: he used to find that look attractive. “That wasn’t the main base?” he asked.

The Leader shook their head. “Oh no. That was a temporary base set up for only one purpose - to house you.”

For some reason, it felt like his heart had dropped.

“It’ll be abandoned soon, I think,” they continued, paying him no attention. “Unless I can manage to sell it to someone. But no matter - you are going to Babylon’s home base, where you’ll be close to me and i can visit and keep an eye on you.”

He absolutely did not want them visiting him. “Where is this home base?” he asked. If he had an idea, he could find a way to pass the info onto Locus.

But the Leader only smiled and shook their head. They said, “It’ll be a few hours more. Relax, try to sleep. You’ll have some food in about an hour, so you have that to look forward to.”

Only an hour for food, and several more after that, and then Felix would be on some other base. That didn’t sound too good to him. He started to tune the Leader out, letting their words transform into a dull drone and making small noises when it stopped. It worked, or it seemed to. They said what they wanted, he could stare out the window at the land passing below them. A flawless plan.

Food was served after a while, just like the Leader had said. Their portion was a lot bigger than his, smelled better too, and Felix found himself gazing at their food while awkwardly lifting forkfuls of vegetables to his mouth. He had nothing to drink while eating. The person serving said it’d be too much trouble to take him to the restroom, that he’d get some when they landed. After Felix snarled insults and curses, after the person had walked away, the Leader gave him some of theirs. Some kind of flavored carbonated water. It was strange, but it tasted like heaven and Felix drank as much as he could before they took it back.

All in all, it was a boring plane ride. The Leader fell quiet after a while, and when he glanced at them, they had a reader in their hands, flicking through screens too quickly for him to notice what was on it. Eventually, the pilot announced that they would be setting down in under half an hour.

The Leader lowered their reader to their lap. “That’s good,” they said. “Are you ready for your new room, Felix?”

He made  another small noise, glancing out the window again. The ground below was a city and sprawling suburbs on flat land. A lake was off to one side of the city, houses surrounding about three quarters of it. The skyscrapers of the city cast large shadows over everything else. It went on for a while, and Felix was positive that wherever they were going, it must be on the other side of the city.

He let his mind wander to this main base, wondering what it would look like. How big was it? How many people? How difficult would it be for him to get out? A worrying thought process, and he shifted restlessly in his seat. He had to get out. No matter how difficult it’d be, there was no way he could stay.

A hand landed on his thigh, and Felix nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped his head back to the Leader so quickly that something cracked and then he just stared, wide-eyed. Their hand was on his leg, warm and heavy, squeezing lightly.

They spoke and it was quiet, meant only for him to hear. “It’s alright,” they said. “You’ll be much more comfortable here. There’s no need to be afraid.”

He meant to say he wasn’t afraid. When he opened his mouth, what came out was in a tone to match their own. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed. “Keep your hands off me or I’m breaking your fingers.”

The Leader pulled their hand back, brow furrowing. After a moment, Felix looked away, at the floor. There was a mottled pattern to the floor beneath his feet. He heard the Leader talking: “I know that you’re still shaken by what happened to you, but I’d like if you didn’t threaten me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

There it was. That familiar anger coiling in his stomach, the kind that created its own nest of panic to make him so tense. “You won’t let me go,” Felix said, still quiet. “Doesn’t matter if you won’t hurt me if you keep me locked away.”

“It’s for your own good,” they said. He heard them moving, glanced over to see them leaning closer to him. They touched his shoulder with one hand and Felix grew rigid. “I don’t plan on keeping you in these small rooms, Felix. I want you to be happy here. It will get better for you, I promise, but you have to learn to behave first.”

“What does that mean?”

Their hand was creeping toward his neck, gloved fingers touching his skin. “The violence, the cursing, the threats… All of that needs to stop before I can help you.”

He leaned away from their touch, hating how they persisted and leaned with him. He didn’t say anything; there probably wasn’t anything he could say to get anything else out of them. All he could think was that he needed to leave, he wanted to go home and sink into Locus’s arms and forget this ever happened.

Instead of that, of the safety of home and the comfort of his big stupid partner, Felix was given a rough landing. He heard the chains on his ankles clink as the links shook. The cuffs on his wrist moved up his wrists, then back down. The Leader didn’t move, aside from pulling back from him. They sat up, hands in their lap, and seemed to be waiting for something. Past them, Jenna was rising and heading toward the back. She opened the door there, and the droning voice of that jackass guard drifted through. He only heard one word, and Felix instinctively pushed himself as far back into his seat as possible.

He didn’t move as the guard was escorted out of the jet, staring straight ahead and trying to ignore the panic building in his chest. Fuck, he had to be around that bastard for only a few seconds and he felt like this, like he was going to start shaking.

This wasn’t right. He was strong, people feared him. He didn’t sit in chains and tremble when someone so much as looked at him.

After the guard was gone, the Leader stood, ordering one of the uniformed people left to unshackle Felix. He was still so panicky that when hands landed on his ankles, he gave a visible start and nearly kicked the person in the face.

The person at his feet said, “Calm the fuck down.”

The Leader said, “Does Walker affect you that much?”

They were staring at him curiously, and Felix turned away from them to watch the chains pulled from his ankles. ‘Walker’ must be his guard. Somehow, the name fit. It sounded like a douchebag name, anyway.

“You shouldn’t be afraid of him,” the Leader added.

“I’m not,” Felix said. He pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the dull pain in his thighs. Between the pain pills from earlier, and the numbness gained from sitting still for so long, he would have thought that ache had left for now. Apparently, he couldn’t go more than a few hours without a reminder of the day before.

The Leader didn’t seem convinced. they said nothing though, beyond making the remaining people leave. Once they stood alone with him, they put a hand on his shoulder and steered him into the aisle. “Whether you’re afraid of him or not,” they said, holding him where he stood, “you don’t have to worry about him. Walker was only taken on this plane because he lives on this base. He’s not going to bother you. He’s not even going to be working.”

This was probably supposed to be a comfort to him, but all Felix could think of was that he knew the guard’s name now. Usually, that was information he’d relay to Locus, but he had no way to contact Locus. Even if he did, bastard guard Walker was hardly the real threat here.

The Leader squeezed his shoulder tightly. They told him to wait here, then walked through the door at the back. As soon as the door shut behind them, Felix headed for the door of the jet and leaned out. It still stood open, steps leading down the blacktop beneath. Cold air struck his face, bled through his clothes, but the fresh air and the chance to breathe it was worth the chill. Outside of the jet, there wasn’t really anything to see. A building sat on the other side of the blacktop, three stories tall and long. Probably just a small airport, a place for Babylon’s Leader to park their expensive jet. There was no sight of any of the others, just a van pulling out of the blacktop, far to the right.

Past the building, there were large, long buildings. None were taller than five stories, and far beyond those, he could see the city skyscrapers on the horizon. Definitely the edge of the city then. This was good, though. Felix could lose himself in a city, mingle with its citizens long enough to find a way out, a way to get in contact with his partner and get his life back.

There was just the problem of getting away from this damn gang. Felix looked at the blacktop, at how empty it was, and then he was taking the first step without even thinking of it. The lure of potential freedom was strong.

The instant he was on the first step down, hands landed on his shoulders. Something soft struck him at the same time, falling over his arms and back. Then the Leader said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Felix froze, staring out at the building across from him and seeing his opportunity at freedom vanish.

The Leader continued before he could answer. “You should always wait for me.” They pushed at his shoulders, forcing him to move forward. Their hands never left him. “We have a ride. You may have missed it, but it’s right this way.” Here, they turned him as he stepped onto the blacktop. At the edge of the building, there sat a van, grey and bland and boring. It was no surprise he had missed it, since the damn thing nearly melted into the asphalt around it.

Before they reached the car, the Leader stopped him. Their hands left his shoulders, and then seconds later, something was falling over Felix’s head. It took him a second to realize it was a hood, and that what was draped over his shoulders had to be someone’s jacket. “What is this?” he asked slowly. He gazed down at this arms, at his wrists, and the sleeves that hung loose. “Why a jacket? I can’t even put it on.”

“Oh, I know. But it can be pretty chilly this time of year.” One of their hands was on his back, steering him toward the car and skating down his back. When they leaned forward to open the backseat for him, the Leader’s hand was resting at the small of his back and Felix’s skin was crawling. He was hurried into the car, the Leader climbing in after him.

Felix shuffled instantly to the car door next to him just to put distance between himself and the Leader. Common sense told him this door was locked. No one ever put a prisoner in a car without the doors locked. But the Leader, this person, whoever the fuck they were, they unnerved him. They always spoke so calmly, always appeared so confident, and apparently had this need to touch him. Before now, they hadn’t even acted as if they had noticed him flirting (and god help him, he had actually wanted to fuck them), but now…

Now, the Leader reached for him again, grasping him by one wrist and tugging. Felix was sure they wanted him to scoot back over, be closer to them, and he refused. He even glared at them, ripping his arm free of them. He didn’t wait to see their reaction, turning his head to look out the window. The tinted glass made it hard to see through, but the van was moving and the darkened building was passing by quickly.

This ride wasn’t too long. The Leader stopped bothering him after Felix’s first refusal to obey them, talking instead to the driver upfront, a man that Felix had never seen and likely wouldn’t see again. Felix ignored the conversation, the hood over his face blocking both of the. He focused outside instead, and watched the city past by with an ache in his chest.

The place they finally pulled into had a huge iron gate that opened for the car. Felix couldn’t tell if it was an automatic gate or if someone was posted to keep watch on it. Once through the gate, he couldn’t see much but buildings. All he had seen, really, was buildings. There were a few trees, dead and barren in the cooling weather, all placed in front of the buildings. The van stopped in front of one of these buildings, the tallest one; probably even the biggest one, from what Felix could see. It stretched on both sides past a large set of double doors in the front.

The Leader left the van first, reaching in to help Felix out. The van sped away from them then, and Felix stood still, tracing a slow gaze over the place.

If this was the gang’s main base, it was without a doubt the fanciest gang establishment he had seen yet. The buildings looked old, made of weathered bricks. Windows lined each one at regular intervals, and if this one he stood in front of was to go by, the doors had intricate detailing around their edges. There was a lot to look at, and Felix would have stood there much longer, but people were walking about. Lots of them, glancing his way, and he had the sudden thought that someone would recognize him.

Someone would look at him, standing roughly a foot shorter than their Leader. Someone would see his face, bruised and discolored, and identify him as a weakened, pathetic version of himself. He turned back to the Leader as fast as he could, shoulders hunched, thankful for the hood that still hung low over his face.

The Leader was watching him, had been since they had stepped out from the van. They said, “What is it, Felix?” in a quiet voice that surely only he heard.

Felix said nothing. He couldn’t. There wasn’t a way to explain himself that wouldn’t be embarrassing as hell. If there was, this jackass wasn’t going to hear it.

“Talk to me,” the Leader demanded.

He grit his teeth, taking a step closer to them as someone passed close by. Forget not wanting them to touch him, he couldn’t let someone recognize him when he was in such a sorry state. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m fine.”

The Leader didn’t look like they believed him, but they didn’t ask anymore questions or demand that he keep talking. They laid a hand on his back, leading him again. They steered him to the building, through its doors, and down a hallway to the left. Then there were stairs before him, and the Leader ordered him to climb. The whole time, Felix wondered why they had given him this jacket. If it was just for the cold, or if they had somehow predicted that he wouldn’t want to be so easily seen. He didn’t think that was something someone could have predicted about him, but before this shit had happened, there was a lot of things he would have said couldn’t happen to him.

The Leader was pushing him along a second-floor hallway soon, guiding him past uniformed people until they stopped in front of an open door. There was a guard to one side, leaning against the wall, arms crossed loosely over their chest. The Leader gave them a brief greeting, hand sliding up to Felix’s shoulder to squeeze. They said, “This is Felix. You’ll be watching him. You’ll let no one into this room unless I’ve given them clearance.”

Felix tried to ignore the small burst of panic in his veins at that. He told himself the Leader was going through on their promise to keep the guard away from him, and that this meant he would have more time to devote to getting free. This was a good thing, this new rule of theirs.

It didn’t work, and the panic was still there when the Leader urged him into the room.

The first thing he noticed was that there was an actual bed. No shitty cot with dirty blankets, but a real bed with plush pillows. It was against the wall again, positioned beneath a window. A barred window, but a window nonetheless. The Leader shut the door and Felix only noticed that because he heard it shut. “Do you like it?” they asked, moving around him.

Felix muttered some vague response, glancing around the rest of the room. The door the bathroom was open, and he thought he saw a shower in there. More good news.

“Look,” the Leader said, drawing his attention. “I wanted you to be able to have fresh air when you wished.” They had opened the window, and smiled at him like this was meant to please him.

“That’s… good,” Felix said slowly. The bars were drawing his gaze, taunting him. So what if he could open a window? Still couldn’t get free.

“You’ll notice you have a shower now,” the Leader continued, confirming his earlier thoughts. They took a seat on the bed, and made a motion for him to come over. “This bed was taken from my guest room - much more comfortable than what anyone else here has to sleep on.”

A perk, or what was meant to be one. Felix didn’t move to them, turning instead to walk to the wall. It was brick, painted a dull green. Set into it, almost in the center of the wall, was a door. When it opened it, it was a fridge, filled with bottled waters. The Leader was talking again, something about how they wanted him to stay hydrated, that the water was a part of his comfort here.

Right. His comfort in the prison they still locked him in. The bars were a big enough reminder, but the handcuffs were worse.

The Leader was beside him again. They must have moved while they were talking, while he was distracted. “Would you like the handcuffs off?” they asked. One of their gloved hands was on his arm, fingers trailing down to his wrist. “I believe I remember promising they were temporary, didn’t I?”

Fuck, they were close. Felix paused, stepping back from them. “Do you really have to ask?” he said. “Of course I want them off.”

Take the handcuffs off, and Felix could attack anyone. He could have his power, win his freedom. All he had to do was snatch that knife hanging from the Leader’s belt and shove it through their neck. It’d be easy. He may have thought such things before, but this time, he wouldn’t have cuffed hands, and that would surely make a difference.

The Leader pulled a ring of keys from their belt, studying the keys before pulling Felix’s wrists toward them. Felix watched them insert the key, watched them pull the handcuffs away with one hand, holding onto one of his arms with the other. The cuffs fell, and Felix prepared to strike, moved one arm back. He was sliding into a stance to punch the Leader in the throat, but they moved fast.

He wasn’t sure why this kept surprising him. For someone their size, the Leader always moved with speed that he didn’t expect. They moved fast enough now to catch the hand he had pulled back, letting go of his other one to slide it around his waist. All in one fluid motion. Then they pulled, Felix stumbled forward, and the Leader pressed him against them. Their hand was flat on his back, and when Felix tried to pull away, they let go of his arm to reach for his face. The Leader tilted his face up, and Felix glared at them.

“Let me go,” he said, forcing the anger to be as obvious as possible. Make sure it was that that showed and not the panic flaring inside him again.

The Leader smiled, said, “Ask nicely.”

Judging by their tone of voice, that was supposed to be a joke, a fun little poke at Felix. Not a thing about this was funny, and Felix put his hands on their shoulders and pushed. They moved, but barely. “Go away,” Felix said, pushing again.

In response, the Leader gave a small noise, almost like a laugh. Their grip on his back tightened, fingers curling against him. They leaned forward, and the panic made his chest feel like it was breaking. Or maybe that was his ribs again. Maybe the pain pills had worn off, leaving him to the ache and the throb of pain as the Leader pressed against him, leaned into him, and kissed him.

The noise Felix made at their lips on his was humiliating, but so was how easily they had done this. It was worse that he hadn’t seen this coming, with all the touching and their attitude in general. He pushed them back, finally, but judging by how easily they stepped away, it was probably due to them deciding to let him go. Felix stepped back until he hit the wall, one hand curling around his ribs again. He glared at them, feeling like a cornered animal and hating it

The Leader said, “I hope you’re comfortable here, Felix.” They were still smiling and he wanted to kill them. “I’ll be by to visit you, see how you’re doing.”

The panic in his chest kept building, racing through his veins, until his blood was pounding in his skull. “Get the fuck out,” Felix said, the words choked and weak. He watched the smile melt from the Leader’s face and pressed further against the wall. Experience with this gang had him thinking that nothing good could come from upsetting this person. Still, he found himself saying, “Get out and leave me alone. What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t kidnap someone and force yourself on them.”

The Leader was frowning now.

In typical fashion, Felix kept talking. “What, did you think I was going to like you? Oh, yeah. Thanks a lot for kidnapping me, that kiss sure made it okay! Please, love me!” He spoke and the anger and the panic were both obvious. The words were meant to be mocking, but his hands were shaking. The Leader took a step toward him and Felix wished he could push further back.

The Leader grasped his face again, fingers light despite the look on their face. Anger was written into the lines of their face, he could see that as they got closer. They said his name in a tone of voice that he knew was meant to catch his attention. “Calm down,” they said. “It was probably too early for me to do anything to you, even a kiss, but you can’t understand how long I’ve wanted to.”

Felix bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything. Let them go on with whatever ridiculous bullshit they wanted to say, he didn’t care. As long as he didn’t say anything else, the hands on him wouldn’t turn to a beating and he’d be spared another injury.

“Take some time for yourself,” they said. “Make sure you can think clearly. I’ll come visit you next week. That should be enough time.” They kissed his forehead then, despite how Felix flinched from the contact. “You’ll have meals twice a day, the fridge will stay stocked, and absolutely no one will harm you.”

The Leader released him then, and though they had stopped frowning, there was still anger in their face. They had nearly reached the door again before Felix remembered something he had meant to ask before he had even set foot on the jet.

He said, “How long have I been here?”

The Leader paused, hand on the wall by the door. “Thirteen days, I believe,” they said. “But I could be wrong.” The barest flicker of a smile crossed their face again. “But don’t worry. It won’t be too much longer that you’re stuck in this room.”

After they left, Felix went to the door. He was trying to forget about the kiss, about the ridiculous things they had said to excuse it. Focusing on the door seemed like a good distraction. He hoped, almost desperately, to find a way to open it. But it was smooth from this side, no handles or anything. On the wall where the Leader had touched was a small handprint reader. Obviously, this was keyed to them and not to him.

So that was it then. Felix was trapped in a room with bars on the window and a locked door that he couldn’t hope to open. He was stuck in a place where the guard wanted to fuck him, and the Leader probably wanted to do the same. It had been almost two weeks, and he was no further from escaping than he had been on the first day.

The panic was rushing again, gnawing at him, and Felix went to collapse on the bed, clutching his chest. He was shaking, just slightly, and he didn’t have anything to ease the pain in his ribs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for gore/violence, racial slurs, rape, and the blatant disregard of personal boundaries. 
> 
> also includes pov from an oc

Twelve days had passed since Felix’s abduction before a solid lead turned up. Twelve days, and Locus was wracked with nerves as time dragged on. He barely slept, and ate only when necessary, when hours had passed since his last meal. The lack of information was maddening. There weren’t even any calls from the people who had taken Felix, not for three days now. The last time Babylon had called him, Locus had refused their orders and that was it.

He distracted himself as much as possible, but the simple fact was that nothing was good enough. Nothing he did was enough to forget, even for a moment, that Felix was still trapped somewhere, being abused and tortured. Felix was waiting for him, and Locus was not going to fail him.

Every day, several times a day, Locus would ask the pirate he had connected for information. It always came back as a negative, a false lead one day, a dead end another.

Today, he expected nothing. He messaged her, waited for the usual apology for the lack of results, and received a call instead.

She was speaking before he even had a chance to answer, excitement running through her voice. “Got something,” she said. “Got Jenna Malkova, finally.” She said that after decrypting heavily locked files, this Jenna Malkova had been in a city far from here. “It’s a little under a day’s travel, but miss Malkova here purchased some old abandoned building a few weeks back, paid for the renovations and some expensive equipment - all of its written as classified so fuck knows what she actually bought. The important thing, though, is that I can get us to this building.”

She suggested they leave tomorrow, but Locus refused. “We leave today,” he said.

A pause from the pirate, and he wondered if she would argue. But, she said, “Alright,” with a sigh. “When do you want to leave?”

“When can you get here?”

“Give me an hour. I’ll send you a place to meet me soon.”

It was time that Locus spent pacing around his apartment,, impatiently waiting for the pirate to get back to him. He was already in his armor, had been since the day before - another night he hadn’t really slept. Any rest he had gotten was when he happened to doze off while searching. He should have been tired now, but the thought of sleep, or of rest, was so far from his mind now.

He had a lead. After nearly two weeks, Locus was going to find his partner and help kill those who had taken him.

He met the pirate at a private airport nearby, where he paced restlessly while he waited for her to land. She piloted a small plane, large enough for perhaps five passengers and a co-pilot. When the plane landed, stopped, she disembarked and rushed past him. “Just gotta take care of some things,” she said to him. She didn’t stop walking, turning to move backward as she continued. “You go ahead and get on. Oh! And you’ll be my co-pilot today!”

Locus had no problem with that. The less people involved in this, the better. He knew that if the knowledge of Felix’s capture spread, Felix would not be pleased, and a displeased Felix generally resulted in violence. Occasionally there would be an unsolved murder case that Locus could attribute to Felix’s anger, and this sort of situation would definitely spark such a thing. Keeping this lowkey was a priority.

This pirate was more than capable to help him eliminate whatever threat remained once they arrived, and that was a definite plus in bringing her along. This particular pirate was Mari Wilcox, and she was a multi-talented person. One of the few pirates Locus knew that was actually valuable on a job. On top of being a pilot and a skilled tracker, Mari was tough and hit hard. She knew how to use guns without accidentally hitting her own teammates, which was a skill Locus had found to be missing in a good number of her pirate crewmates. Best of all, she was absolutely terrified of upsetting Locus, and even more terrified of Felix. He could trust her not to spread any rumors if she came to know anything.

They didn’t speak much on the way there. Just enough for Locus to tell her that he had no idea what to expect, but whoever they found would likely be armed.

She asked once, “Why are we after these people?”

Locus replied, “You don’t need to know.”

After that, nothing. She piloted, Locus assisted her, and as time passed, she insisted he go sleep. He refused, until she was bringing it up every few seconds in an annoying way that was so like Felix that Locus left her side to make her stop. He left the cockpit and strapped himself into a passenger seat, leaned it back as far as it’d go, and laid there in full armor. He was positive he wouldn’t fall asleep until exhaustion weighed him down.

A whistle woke him, sharp through the helmet’s radio. When he sat up, Mari was laughing. “Didn’t think that would get you,” she said. Her voice was clear through the radio, and Locus eyed the closed cockpit door.  “Been trying to wake you up for a couple of minutes now.”

Locus made a small noise, not willing to talk. It felt like it’d be so easy to fall back asleep, letting the quiet sound of the plane’s rumbling engine lull him back.

Mari said, “We’re almost there. Got the approval for the landing right before you woke up.”

That was enough to wipe sleep from his mind. Locus pushed himself out of the seat, sliding back the cockpit door and rejoining Mari. The plane was headed for a small airport; only two runways stretched out beside it. Undoubtedly another private airport. There was one other plane sitting near the building, roughly the same size as this one.

Another stop, then. Yet another place where Mari went inside on her own, leaving Locus to pace anxious paths over the asphalt. This was necessary, and he knew that. They could hardly land a plane on top of a building without arousing suspicion. But Locus was impatient; it had already been too long without Felix beside him, and this - stopping at airports, waiting, pacing - all of it seemed to drag on.

The sound of a vehicle made him stop, the loud engine announcing it seconds before it turned around the corner of the building. A military humvee, not quite equipped for war as a Warthog, but sturdy, undoubtedly able to support the armor he wore. Mari sat in the driver’s seat and grinned at him as he pulled the passenger door open.

“You have no idea how much it costs to rent this thing,” she said.

If all went well, maybe he would consider paying her back. For now, he told her to be quiet and drive. She listened, choosing quiet back streets that took them far from the traffic and the busy center of town. They turned down an old road, asphalt cracking and even broken in places, and that was when she started to talk. She said that the place they were going was part of an old factory district that had been mostly abandoned in the recent years. “We shouldn’t have a problem finding somewhere to park this thing so no one sees us,” she said. “We’ll have a big problem if they hear this damn thing approaching.”

“And you’re sure this is the right place?”

“Absolutely.”

Just as she had said, the buildings they approached were clearly abandoned. There were a few cars pulled up to two, but the surrounding ones were closed. Mari parked the humvee behind one of these abandoned buildings, and then lead him around the back. She was still talking, gesturing at the buildings as they passed. “Really wish you’d tell me what was going on,” she said, “ ‘cause I’d like to know what I’m getting into. Just assumed that with you, it was gonna involve shooting people, so…”

There was a pistol in her hands, a rifle across her back. Both guns had been in the back of the vehicle and Locus didn’t bother asking what she had done to get them put there.

Mari glanced back at him as they walked, looking at the shotgun he held with both hands. “Yeah, see. You and Felix are always getting into this type of shit, and here you are, armed to the teeth.”

“You don’t need to know,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah. Right. Just be a little nice to know, is all I’m saying.”

Locus made a quiet noise, and then let go of his gun to push her forward, make her move faster. He didn’t like that she had to lead him to this place, but she could at least move a little quicker.

Up ahead, the buildings to their left were ending, showing nothing but fields leading to the dead trees of a forest. Here, Mari stopped and said, “That one. Dead ahead.”

There was only one place she could be talking about, and Locus didn’t even need her to speak to know which one. A three-story building, surrounded by a gated fence - except for the back end,  the side that faced the fields. The gate had been removed, leaving room for a long expanse of blacktop that could only be used for a runway. Cars sat before it, sunlight glinting off the paint. It was the only one nearby with signs of life, the only one this far into the district that even had a car near it.

Felix was in there.

He had to be.

Now that this building was in front of him, Locus found he couldn’t wait any longer. He couldn’t be patient, couldn’t listen to whatever it was Mari was telling him. He looked out at the plain brick of the building, those few signs of life, and then Locus was moving as quickly as possible. Large, bounding steps that turned into a run, speed fueled by pent up rage and the aching anxiety to see Felix again, to make sure he was as perfect as always.

Locus ran, barreling through the old fencing, ripping it from the post down one side. Dimly, he could hear Mari yelling - “Locus! Wait!” - but it sounded farther than it should have, much quieter than the rush of anger pounding through his head. There was a door on the side, dull blue and weathered; Locus turned toward that, twisting so that he held the shotgun close to his body, and then rammed shoulder-first with full force into the door. It buckled, snapped open, and hung there on one hinge while Locus charged in.

He only stopped because no one was to be seen. The door had opened onto a stairwell - one to his left leading up, another off to his right that led down. There was another door straight in front of him, and after quick deliberation, Locus shoved that one open. He could check this floor and, if there was nothing, send Mari to one set of stairs while he took the other.

He would find Felix. He kept telling himself that as he walked through the ground floor, hands clenching the shotgun. Tension wired through his muscles, building in his gut and spreading through his veins. Up ahead a door slammed and he had to fight the impulse to sprint ahead, grab whoever it was, and shove the gun down their throat.

A voice called out, “What the fuck was that?”

Another, calmer: “Doesn’t matter. Find them, kill them. Stop yelling.”

Two, then. At the very least. Locus followed their voices, vaguely aware that footsteps were following him. Since there wasn’t any indication of violence from behind, that was Mari, finally catching up. She had stopped talking and Locus heard the distinct sound of her readying her weapon to fire. He hardly paid her attention, moving around the next corner as cautious as he could. The pair of voices were close now, and the sight of an open door had him picking up speed again.

As Mari let out a quiet sigh a man stepped out of the doorway, cursing as he spotted them. There was this instant where recognition flickered in the man’s face and all Locus saw was pure, unadulterated fear. Then, this man said, “Oh shit!”

Locus leveled his shotgun at this man, demanding: “Where is he?” Anger made it a snarl, twisted it to be louder than he intended. Noises flared up in the room instantly - clattering, things falling to the floor, multiple voices. He glanced over to count three others, all rising from seats. Computer screens were in front of them.

The man he had the shotgun at was backing away, reaching for a pistol on his hip. Locus surged forward, slamming the shotgun sideways across the man’s throat and backing him out of the doorway entirely. The man’s back hit the wall with a heavy thud.

Someone inside said, “Fuck! Call the Boss!”

A gunshot answered - close to him. Mari. Good. Left him to concentrate on getting the answers he wanted. The idiot he had snagged was sputtering excuses and Locus pressed the shotgun down deeper. “Where is he?” he repeated, the words searing like molten lead from his throat.

The man said, “I can’t - you can’t know - “ and trailed off into curses. He was trying to pull the gun from across his throat, fingers shaking.

There were more gunshots from Mari, sounds of pain from inside the room. Over those other voices, she said, “All three are down, Locus.”

That should have meant they were dead.

The man he had was still sputtering, useless excuses. He wouldn’t talk, even when Locus released him and pointed the shotgun barrel right at his face. “Tell me where he is,” Locus said.

The only answer was a shaky breath, something like a whimper.

Locus growled - perhaps it was more akin to a roar, a guttural noise of frustration, anger, and the desperation to find his partner. He adjusted his grip on the shotgun, pulled it back, and slammed the butt of it into the man’s face. He heard the bones of the man’s nose crack on the first hit, heard Mari telling him to stop on the second.

He did stop, if only to rear back and slam his fist into the skull of this pathetic useless man. With the added force of the armor, Locus hit hard enough to snap the man’s head back. It hit the wall behind him with another sickening crack, and when Locus pulled his fist back, blood was splattered across the knuckles. The man sputtered blood - his whole face was a bloody mess now - and slid slowly to the floor. Locus left him there to die, pushing Mari aside as he entered the room.

There was a woman closest to the door, clutching at one leg with both hands. Blood seeped through her pants, over her hands and onto the floor. Gunshot to the knee. Efficient, well executed. Locus charged to her side, watching as she flinched away. There were tears running down her face as he knelt beside her. Pathetic.

“Where is he?”

She said, “You’re a monster,” voice shaking.

Locus shot her in face without another word. He turned to the next one, ignoring Mari in the doorway. She kept saying to stop, to wait a moment, think about things. Locus was done waiting, done being patient when Felix was still out there somewhere.

He grasped the third person by the throat, pushing them against the desk they sat by. Like the other, Mari had dispatched this one with bullets to the knees. A messier job than the first, more bulletholes, more blood. Locus’s hand was shaking where he clamped down around this one’s throat. He repeated himself, again, leaning close and trying to speak calmly.

This one only said, “Fuck you,” and closed their eyes, waiting for death. Locus delivered.

By the time Locus turned to face the last one, rage was boiling through him. He glared through his helmet at the last pitiful excuse of a human being, the last person here - and it had to be the last. All the gunshots hadn’t alerted anyone else. Nothing sparking to life, nothing surged down to where he was. Only this last man, who was staring at Locus with wide eyes.

He gripped this man by the collar of his shirt, slamming him into the ground. The shogun lay beside him, abandoned. When Locus repeated himself one last time, it came out laced with enough anger to burn. And when the man beneath him shook his head, Locus punched him in the face, hard. He asked again to the same stubborn silence and snapped, slamming the man back into the ground. By this point, Locus had one knee pressed into the man’s stomach, keeping him pinned.

It was easy to let go of the man’s shirt to punch him repeatedly, demanding answers. Asking the same questions.

He roared, “What have you done to Felix?” and was met only with cold eyes.

Behind him, quietly, Mari said, “Fuckin’ shit, Locus. You killed him. Stop already.”

It took a surprising amount of force for Locus to release the body and reach for his shotgun. When he stood, Mari said, “What the fuck, Locus? You could have kept one alive to actually be questioned.”

Locus ignored her. He focused instead on trying to control his overwhelming anger, to stop himself from breaking every single thing in this room. He didn’t realize how tense he was, how hard he was breathing, until Mari crept up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He twitched, head snapping to her, and all she did was frown and take a step back.

“Hey,” she said. “What… What happened to Felix?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re looking for him, aren’t you? That’s why you killed all these people, isn’t it?”

Locus’s hands were still shaking. He tightened both around the shotgun in an attempt to cover it. “Someone captured him,” he said, putting effort into sounding controlled. “It’s been two weeks, and I haven’t found him. He hasn’t escaped. I have to find him.”

The instant he said it, he wished he hadn’t. No one was supposed to know what happened to Felix, simply because Felix wouldn’t want it spread. The image of Felix as an untouchable terror was important, and here Locus stood. Destroying it with each word he spoke. Despite the sudden urge to tell Mari exactly what he knew, Locus stopped talking.

Thankfully, Mari asked nothing else. She looked around the room, at the bodies, at the computers, and said, “I might be able to find something. Maybe you should search the rest of the building, try to find any clues?”

He listened. A walk sounded like a good way to ease his mind, even if it all he did was wind through the twisting halls of an abandoned building. There was nothing, of course. Lots of empty rooms, boxes stacked in some of them. A few desks in one. Upstairs, there was one room in particular that was large, empty, gleaming - he could only imagine what had happened there. The fact that a two-way mirror was mounted on one wall didn’t bode well. Downstairs, Locus found only a few rooms, most sized for storage. One room held only a cot and Locus didn’t give it more than a glance before walking back upstairs.

He knew what happened there, and the knowledge chilled his blood.

By the time he made it back to Mari, Locus wasn’t so angry anymore. Mostly disappointed in himself for taking so long, for missing Felix. Nothing in this building hinted at where he had gone, but it had been where he was held. At least for a little while, Felix had been here.

He asked Mari, “Did you find anything?”

“Not yet,” she said, “but I’m copying files and a lot of encrypted shit.” She tapped a device hooked up to the computer she sat before. “Won’t take but a few more minutes.”

Locus said nothing.

Mari looked up at him, concern etched into her face. “Look… I know it’s not even possible to imagine how close you two are, but I know Felix too. I’ll help you find him.”

As far as Locus knew, the most contact Mari had ever had with Felix was failing to get him into bed. Her help was necessary, however, so he only nodded. He left the room, left the building entirely, going to stand outside to wait for her to finish. Being in that place was horrible, weighing down on him.

Outside, Locus stared ahead of him at the empty district, wondering just how close he had been.

* * * * *

For the most part, Felix’s time in this new cell was boring. People came by on his second day there with a small, pathetic excuse for a dresser; it had three drawers and was only stocked with plain clothes and uniforms that mirrored the gangs’ look. He discovered the laundry chute built into the wall of the bathroom, and every few days, his morning breakfast was delivered with the bonus of freshly folded clothes. He drank the water in the fridge, and it was replaced. On the third day, someone left a stack of books for him to discover when he awoke, and he ignored them for all of five hours before giving up and cracking one open.

He was bored. There wasn’t near enough to distract himself, and being locked in such a small area was making him stir-crazy. The bars on the window mocked him with the illusion of freedom. Even though he knew it wouldn’t help, he tugged at them nightly before slamming the window shut in frustration.

The one good thing was that he could keep track of the days now. He managed to get a guard to lend him a pencil - dull as shit and the man outside his door refused to sharpen it, but a pencil. In the back of one of the dull books he had now, Felix had written ‘13’ at the top. Beneath it, he had started to add tallies, ignoring the twinge in the back of his skull as he did.

Tallies were tallies. Had nothing to do with the marks in his thigh. No matter that every night, when he added a new tally, he thought about the cuts on his leg and why they were there.

Currently, Felix’s count was seventeen days.

Seventeen days, and he had no idea what to do next. Did he wait for Locus? Keep searching for some way out of here by himself? Each option seemed just as unlikely as the other, and all Felix did was sit in this room and think until his head hurt. Kept turning the same thoughts over in his head - over and over and over. It was endless, and useless, and tiring.

He thought about how something must have happened for Locus to not be there yet. Had to be one hell of a good reason for leaving him here. But if Locus couldn’t get him out, then Felix had to do it himself - and he had no idea how to do that. Not without putting himself at even more risk.

Such a load of bullshit.

He thought about all of it while in the shower, too. Thought about his situation and how to get out instead of why there so many discolored bruises over his body. He always tried to think about other things, anything that wouldn’t make him feel so dirtied by what had happened.

Every so often, he remembered the writing on his back and left the shower with a sour taste in his mouth.

The bruises were healing slowly. Currently, most were either a disgusting yellow-green or a dark purple, but they were healing. He was given pain pills every day, once in the morning and once at night, presumably for his ribs. Felix took them without question - his ribs hurt, obviously, but he remembered the dull ache that had spread through his body, the burning pain in his pelvis and lower back. Right now, stuck here, Felix would have taken anything to forget that feeling, to never have to feel it again.

Overall, though, the worst was that not only did he have nothing to do, he had no one to talk with. Felix was alone, trapped in a place with people he (at best) didn’t trust or flat out hated. The room wasn’t even big and Felix had examined the whole thing, poked in all the corners. There wasn’t even surveillance in this room. He assume there was a camera on the outside of the door, security on the courtyard his window overlooked.

Must be another sad attempt to make Felix feel comfortable. Have a room where no one was spying on him.

And where the bars on the windows still fucking mocked him. There was a bird out there today, happy as shit, and Felix wanted to strangle it.

Instead, he went to shower. There wasn’t really a need to, other than a combination of growing boredom and this need to be clean. All those days spent living in filth, the added grime from that stupid horrible jackass touching him - the point being, Felix found himself feeling dirtier than he should. Standing underneath hot water, scrubbing at his skin, it helped. For a while.

Today, he just stood there, face tilted to the water. It was hotter than usual, but somehow that was comforting. It was quiet save for the sound of the water running, hitting the floor and the walls of the shower. He could have stayed there for hours.

Which, of course, was why he heard the distinct sound of the door to his room sliding open. Felix waited until there was a knock at the bathroom door before he sighed and reached to turned the water off. Before he had even stepped out of the shower, the door was opening. “What, seriously?” He was, mostly, speaking to himself. “Can’t even let me finish a shower?”

A voice answered: “Most people don’t shower in the middle of the afternoon.”

Great. The Leader, of course. “Yeah, and I’m sure you couldn’t just wait.” He glared daggers through the cloudy door of the shower, directing his gaze at the figure standing there. The glass may have been made in a way to distort images, prevent someone from seeing clearly, but he was sure that jackass could see him just as he could see them.

“This is the only time I have free,” they said. “I can’t wait, nor can I come another time.”

“And I’m sure there’s some spectacular reason for you to be here.” Definitely not just that the Leader of this gang was an oddly disturbing person. “And another great reason why you can’t go wait for me to get dressed. Am I right?”

The Leader said, “I need to talk to you. The reasons shouldn’t be important.”

Felix wanted to slam his head into the wall. As it were, he simply sighed and rested his forehead against the smooth wall, wishing for the privacy and solitude he had been in moments before. “Let me get dressed,” he said after a moment. “Can you do that? Or does that interrupt your oh-so-busy schedule?”

Instead of answering that, they said, “Is there… something on your back?”

Felix froze, a deep-seated pit of anxiety flaring to life. He had forgotten somehow about the vulgarity on his back, the implications behind it. He had even managed to turn so that the Leader could see it, and now he didn’t even have the words to deny it. His breath seemed to have caught in his throat, and right when he went to speak, the shower door was sliding open. Felix snapped his head around, saying “Hey! Seriously? I’m naked, get the fuck out!”

The Leader looked at him with this annoyingly calm gaze, brows drawn slightly. They looked from his eyes to his back and then up to his face again. “Would you like to have that cleaned off?” they asked.

He couldn’t say no, really. But he didn’t want to know what would happen if he said yes, so instead he stayed silent and glared at them, daring them to make a move.

In the end, the Leader sighed and stepped forward to reach for Felix’s arm. The fact that Felix recoiled from them didn’t stop them, and he was yanked from the shower without another word. The Leader stopped him from drying off, though he at least got to tie the towel around his waist in some semblance of decency. They moved him at their leisure, hands pushing at his waist despite how Felix snapped at them and tried vainly to get away. Those hands, strong and covered by thick gloves, wouldn’t let him go until Felix was standing at the sink, gripping the sides of it and staring at his own face in the mirror. He could see the Leader behind him, pulling their gloves off, and that anxiety in his stomach was growing.

He had no idea what to expect here, but he knew he didn’t like it. He didn’t care for how the Leader carried themself, how they ignored anything he said, how they had breached what little privacy he was given. They reached around him now for a washcloth next to the sink, leaning far too close to him - and he hated how he instinctively shied away from them, pushing himself closer to the ceramic sink and glaring fiercely at them in the mirror.

The Leader told him, “Turn the water on, Felix,” and then wet the rag under it. They had their arms to either side of him as they did - a pointless, unnecessary thing that made Felix’s skin crawl. He turned his head when they withdrew, watched them take a seat on the closed toilet. Then one of their hands reached out to him, tugged at his waist to move him again.

Without the gloves, the Leader had warm hands. Felix hated knowing how it felt to have them touch him.

He didn’t speak as they scrubbed at his back, didn’t move. He could still see himself in the mirror if he glanced up, and found he didn’t want to look. Not at the bruises that still flared under his eyes and over his forehead, nor at the wide-eyed gaze that stared back at him. That person in the mirror almost looked frightened, and Felix was never afraid. Certainly not by something as simple as this.

For whatever reason, the Leader made quiet noises as they scrubbed at his back. Low, pleased hums that would be appropriate if they were fucking Felix over the sink - but, no, he really didn’t want to think about that. Naturally, his mind supplied the images he sought to avoid: the Leader, all tan and firm muscles, bending him over; those warm hands sliding over his chest and down; even being able to watch as they fucked him, seeing the expressions on their face reflected through the mirror.

Felix grit his teeth against the images, the anxiety and restlessness roaring in him, and glared fiercely at the drain in the sink. After a short time, the motions on his back stopped, leaving the skin there feeling scoured and hot - but, he hoped, cleaner. “Are you done then?” he asked, keeping his voice calm.

The Leader hummed again, and then a hand slid up his back, over the light sheen still left from the water. If they felt Felix tensing under their touch, they didn’t care. “All gone,” they said quietly. “You’re clean again.” their hand was at the joint of his shoulderblades now, and he thought maybe it was the tattoos that fascinated them like so many others - but then he felt hair tickling his back. Shortly after that, lips touched his skin, and Felix jolted away.

He spun, hitting his side on the sink and barely managing to keep the towel in place. The Leader had risen from where they had sat, and still hand one hand outstretched for him. Felix stared, knowing all too well how shaken he looked. “What the fuck,” he said quietly. “Is - is there something loose in your head?”

The Leader frowned, lowering their hand. “My apologies,” they said, and it didn’t sound true in any way. “Go ahead and get dressed. I - I’ll need a moment.”

Felix was curious despite himself about why, but then his eyes snapped downward and he sighed. Right. The Leader, in classic fashion, was sporting an erection that was obvious through their pants. Normally, Felix would have taken that as a compliment - to get someone so riled up through just touching him, just seeing him naked for a few short moments. That was great, meant he should already have power over the idiot weak enough for that to happen.

With this person, it felt different. It made him feel sick, and he wasted no time in leaving and shutting the door behind him. As he dressed, he felt worse and worse with each passing minute. Felix took a seat at the edge of his bed, waiting, feeling dread spilling down his spine and locking up his throat. All from the knowledge that the Leader was in that bathroom, masturbating to thoughts of him.

When the Leader exited the bathroom, Felix glanced over even as he told himself not to. The Leader stood tall, poised. If it wasn’t for the flush high on their cheeks, not a thing would be different about them. They caught Felix’s eye and smiled. It sent a chill down Felix’s spine and he looked away, at his hands in his lap. It wasn’t long before the bed dipped, the Leader sitting down beside him. Something touched his thigh and Felix twitched away; he wasn’t sure if it was the Leader’s knee or their hand, but he didn’t like the idea of them touching him anymore.

The Leader had already started talking. “As I said, I want to talk to you today.”

“I don’t want to,” Felix muttered.

As he expected, they ignored him. “It mostly consists of a question, really. See, Felix, I have been wondering how it feels to live in such a small place. It can’t be good for you to be trapped in here, kept here like some kind of animal.”

Hearing all this was not helping how angry he was. “Can you leave?”

Again, he was ignored. The Leader said, “I can’t stand by and leave you here, go about my business with the knowledge that you’re locked away without a single semblance of freedom.”

Felix glanced up, frowning. The Leader was watching him, still smiling. “Are you gonna let me go then?” he asked.

“Oh, Felix,” they said, laughing quietly. “I want to give you something better.”

Better than his freedom. Right. Okay.

“I can offer you a home,” the Leader continued. “Your own bed, any kind of food you could ever want. You would have a TV, computer access. And, I’m sure this will be a fantastic element… You’ll never have to be alone again.” They reached for Felix then, hand settling on his thigh. He shuddered, and they ignored that too. “Wouldn’t you like to get out of this room?”

Felix said nothing. He glared at them, at the hand on his leg, and then jerked away, standing just to take a seat much further up on the bed. Then he pulled his legs up, keeping every bit of himself away from them.

Of course he wanted out of this place. But it wasn’t just the room, it was every tiny part of this gang. He wanted to get away, far away, and as quickly as possible. Besides that, the way they talked just made him uncomfortable. Something about a ‘home’ they offered didn’t sound right.

The Leader was frowning again, sighing as he pulled back from them. “Look, kitten - “

“I’m sorry, what?” Was that a petname? From some bigshot leader of a gang that had kidnapped him? All the apprehension Felix had was dimmed. He straightened up a bit, staring. “What the fuck was that?”

They didn’t even blink. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“No, no, no. You’re not going to try and pretend you didn’t just call me kit - “

“Felix,” they said, raising their voice, “all I ask is that you consider my offer.”

“Look, you fucking asshole - ”

“I have to leave here for a while,” the Leader continued, steadfastly ignoring every word he spoke. “Something has come up and apparently no one else can handle it. I’ll be back in a few days for your answer.” They paused, and their brows knit together briefly. “And, please. Watch your language.” They left then, without another word, pressing their hand to that reader by the door. Didn’t even give him another chance.

Felix sat there, staring at the door as it closed. He didn’t move, still sitting at the headboard. It took an alarming amount of energy to wrap his head around what just happened. Rather, what he was just called. His heart was pounding against his ribs, and for some odd reason, all he felt was this overwhelming dread.

Just another reason for him to hate this place.

Shortly, Felix rolled onto his side, grasping the pillow from the head of the bed and clinging to it. The sense of dread wouldn’t fade, gripping his heart and making him incredibly uneasy. He stayed that way for a while, dozing off. He hadn't planned to fall asleep, but given that there was nothing to do and no one barging in on him anymore, it didn’t seem to matter.

At some point, someone woke him up with a nudge. Just the guard from outside his room. “Time for dinner,” the man said. The food in question was on a tray set on top of the small dresser. “Medic’ll be by soon with a refill of pain meds.”

Felix waited until the man had left before he sat up and went to get his food. It wasn’t a lot. A meager helping of green beans, soggy looking corn, and a slab of meat. He ate all of it standing there, savoring the meat the most, and then went to wash it all down with half a bottle of water from the fridge. With nothing else to do and the sun setting behind his barred window, Felix lay down on his back, staring up at the ceiling and chasing the same never-ending thoughts around in his head.

Just as the guard had said, someone came in a few minutes with a fresh bottle of pills and another reminder to take no more than four a day, only with food and water. Yet again, Felix watched the person leave the room before he got up to take the pills.

It was good timing, though. Damn ribs were starting to twinge again.

Now, Felix was sure he would be left alone until breakfast tomorrow morning. Which left him to either go to sleep again or read. Then there was the third option, the one that he chose: lay on his bed, stare at nothing, and try to find a way out of here before the Leader got even creepier. Before someone else could do something to him. Being called ‘kitten’ was bad enough, actually giving the Leader time to get worse was never going to happen.

No one else was going to touch him, he had promised himself that as soon as he was locked in this room. Not the Leader, not another one of these damned guards. He fell asleep again while telling himself he would break bones to protect himself if he had to.

* * * * *

The wakeup he got was rough. Heavy hands that gripped him and flipped him onto his back. For a second or two, Felix was just confused - at the way he was woken up, and why it was still dark out if it was breakfast time. Then, slowly, things fell into place. The leering face above him, the hands pressing him down.

This wasn’t breakfast at all. For fuck’s sake, it was night still. He thought it might be someone come to take him away for more bullshit torture, whatever sick game these people got off on. Then he recognized the twisted scar, and any lingering drowsiness exploded into a tight knot of anxiety in his gut. It must have showed in his face because the guard sneered at him. “Nice to see you again,” he said. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

This had to be a nightmare.

The guard - his old guard, the abusive sadistic sick son of a bitch, was leaning over him, one knee in the bed. “Are you shaking, slut?” he said. His voice scraped down Felix’s spine like poison. “No need to be afraid of me. Just here to say hi.”

Felix tried to speak and the only thing that came out was this strangled sound that died in his throat. It sounded pathetic, and he hated the guard for grinning.

“Did you miss me?” Slowly the guard raised himself onto the bed, straddling Felix at the waist.

Finally Felix managed to choke out, “The fuck are you doing here?”

The guard laughed, an awful grating sound. “Came to see how my favorite fucktoy’s doin’ in his fancy new home,” he said. “You didn’t think we were done, did you? That’s not real smart of you. Aren’t Asians supposed to smart, or does being a little snapdragon make you an exception?”

Felix responded by striking out and punching the guard in the jaw. It wasn’t a well placed hit, he was too shaken up to aim well. His knuckles hurt more than they should have, and there wasn’t enough strength behind it, but the guard still reeled back. Judging by the flashing anger in his eyes, all Felix had done was piss him off. So Felix hit him again, actually aiming this time - for the guards’ nose. He missed, but only because the guard jumped from the bed.

In the next second, he was reaching for Felix again, a hand clamping around Felix’s arm above the elbow. The fight that ensued was short. Felix leapt from the bed, the guard dragged him forward, and Felix attempted to sweep one leg under the guards’. When that failed, he twisted out of the guards’ hand, shifting back into a fighting position.

The guard barely moved at all, standing there like the hulking sack of shit he was, not budging until Felix started landing quick hits.

Felix refused to be overpowered by this jackass again. He wished for a knife, a blade, anything that he could stab into this guy’s flesh and slice the jackass open repeatedly. What he got was one punch right in his ribs, enough force that made Felix wheeze, nearly bent him over - and then another one, and another. Somehow, he had forgotten about his ribs and now the pain medication was null. Every breath hurt, and when the guard shoved him bodily onto the bed, that hurt too.

He was lying there, staring up and trying so hard to piece together how exactly this kept happening to him, and then the guards’ hands were on his shoulders. He was flipped, one hand shoving his face into the blankets as the other snaked around his waist. Instantly, Felix’s heart jumped into his throat. He squirmed, planting his hands and trying to push up.

The only thing he thought was that he had to stop this, this couldn’t be happening again. Not to him.

The guard let go of him just a second, yanking his pants down with both hands. Felix pushed himself up automatically - but then the guard had his arms, pulling them away and slamming them on his back. Felix lay there, shaking - anger, pure anger, nothing else. He said, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

The guard laughed One hand was still pulling Felix’s clothes down; the other held his wrists tight. “And here I am anyway. Don’t worry about it.” The hand left Felix’s legs and the guard was silent. Felix must have froze then, it was the only reason he could find for the cold fingers easing into his hole. “You really did think you were rid of me, didn’t you?” the guard continued. “Did you think Bossman would actually stop me? Think I’m afraid of that idiot?”

Felix shuddered at the fingers moving inside him. “You’re not - You can’t do this.”

“Who's gonna stop me? You?” Another laugh, punctuated by the fingers slipping out of him.

Felix didn’t answer, dread pooling in his gut at what was coming next. His hips were forced up, and then the guard was pushing his cock in slowly. It hurt, that dull fiery pain that Felix had hoped to never feel again.

“Y’know, fuckhole, I wasn’t actually going to do anything to you.” He started moving, setting a steady rhythm that had Felix wincing. “And then you hit me. And we can’t have a disobedient whore.”

Felix managed to say, “I hate you.”

The guard answered, “You like my dick, though.”

“I’m going to fuckin’ kill you.”

He meant it. Every thrust into him only made his anger rise, made his desire to kill the guard grow. There was no one else Felix hated more that this man, and one day, he was going to stab the man’s eyes out, disembowel him and stuff his own cock down his throat.

Felix was going to get his revenge and then he was getting out of this hellhole. Every single person who tried to stop him would die.

When the guard came, he was buried deep into Felix. Before he even pulled out, in between heavy breaths, he said, “One last thing, whore: Don’t bother telling anyone. No one’s gonna believe you.”

Felix growled a curse, trying to throw the guard off or at least get his arms free.

“Not even Bossman will believe you,” the guard said. He pulled out then, letting Felix go, still talking. “You get that? Even with how much he likes you, the Boss knows you’re a little whore. He’ll probably keep you here longer just for fuckin’ me again.”

Felix was on his side, pulling up his pants and trying to ignore the feeling of the guard’s cum leaking out. “Get the fuck out.”

The guard left; Felix didn’t watch him go. He heard the door slide open, then close again, and he still lay there shaking. For a few moments all he thought of was the hatred he felt for this guard, the ways he could murder the bastard. Then, something rose up suddenly - he hated himself. For what happened just now, Felix hated himself more than he had ever thought possible.

* * * * *

After an excruciatingly long plane flight, one that came far too soon after the last one, and one boring car ride, the Leader set foot on the grounds of building they had been planning to abandon. This broken, dismal place and this stinking, ugly building had never been prime real estate, never a good thing to buy. Definitely not to keep. Absolutely not worthy of holding someone as great as their Felix. Being back here could mean nothing good. That stressed out, near frightened look on the face of the man leading them inside? Well, that couldn’t be good either.

This man, whoever he was, took the Leader to a side door that hung off its hinges. They regarded it with a frown, then turned that look onto the man before them. “Who breaks a door?” they asked. “I doubt it was locked.”

“Ah, well…” The man looked nervous. He probably was; they tended to have that effect on people. “You, uh - you’ll understand soon.”

“Or you could tell me now,” they said.

While they spoke, the pair were joined by Jenna. As their head of general and personal security she was obligated to come with them on as many outings like this as she could. If they had their way, she would stay at the home base more often than not. She was far too convincing and made it a habit of smacking them over the head when they wouldn’t listen - a privilege she abused far too often. She arrived just in time to hear that last exchange and sighed. “Just go inside,” she told them. “Let the man do his job without you scaring him.”

If this man was afraid, then the Leader was already doing their job. They consented anyway, following the man into the building. The man didn’t speak again until all three of them stood by a dead body. The corpse was crumpled on the floor, and whoever the poor soul had been, the blood streaking the wall belonged to them.

The Leader sighed. They nudged the body with one foot. “What happened?”

“There’s more inside,” the man said instead. The door to the room stood open and he motioned for them to step inside. “It’s… it’s a mess, Boss.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. More dead bodies. Blood. Evidence that some brute had manhandled and broken the Leader’s people. What a shame. They were certain that at least one of these people could have been useful.

“We have an idea of who’s responsible,” the man said. He hung back near the door, along with Jenna.

“Let me guess,” they said, “it was Locus.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Of course it was. No one else had any reason to hunt down this particular building, nor to kill so many people. Such messy deaths, too, like Locus had no self control. “That man is going to get annoying soon,” the Leader muttered. They kicked at another dead body, a woman this time. They spoke to the corpse: “Why weren’t you prepared? You should have been ready for him.”

The man by talking again. “This group was supposed to pack up all that was left here. They were also supposed to fry all these computers, y’know - get rid of the information?”

“Yes, yes.” Standard operating procedure was to get rid of any hint of where Babylon was stationed. All information on computers had to be purged, anything physical destroyed.  “Why mention it?”

“Because all the computers have been accessed, but nothing’s been wiped. I think - well, one of the technicians I had here, she thinks that someone might have copied some of our files.”

By the end of the day, the Leader was positive they were going to have someone killed. If not for incompetence, then simply as a stress relief. “Why wasn’t the work on the computers finished?” they asked, turning from the dead to face the man. He looked scared again, the weak fool. “It should always be top priority to scrub any of our data. What if Locus has gathered important information on us? What if he dares to strike other bases? What if you and your idiotic team has spelled our death?”

“I - I’m very sorry, Boss.”

“Yes, but what good is that to me?”

By the door, Jenna cleared her throat. “Lahja.”

They looked to her, waiting.

“Not to cut across you while you belittle this poor man,” she said, “but he was hardly responsible for this. His team was the cleanup crew for the murders. He’s just here to clean up the blood and dispose of the bodies.”

The man looked relieved.

The Leader blinked, and said, “Ah. My apologies, then.” They could issue an apology to this man, who was apparently nothing more than a glorified janitor, but they’d rather not. Instead, they asked for a list of who was supposed to be in charge of the cleanup - someone not dead. Then, once that man left, the Leader joined Jenna.

“What’s your plan?” she asked quietly.

“Increase security, first of all,” they said. “On every base, if possible.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen. Not if you want those two posted as your neighbors, the extra security on Felix - “

“Yes, okay, I get it.”

“ - then you already asked me for increased security on the main base, so I’m not sure where you expect me to pull new people from.” She gave them one of those looks - the one that said, without her having to speak, that they should have known that wouldn’t be possible. “I’m sorry, Lahja, but I can’t work miracles. And these people are overworked as it is.”

“Fine. Close another offsite. Use those people to help protect us.”

“Help protect you.”

“Us.” They meant that. If Locus managed to find Babylon’s main base, they needed as many people as possible there to repel him. “I want the whole base protected, and for gods’ sake, Jenna. Get a suit of armor.”

“I’m not wearing that bulky bullshit,” she said instantly. “Stop suggesting it.”

“What if it was an order?’

She smirked. “As your employee? I politely decline that offer. As your friend, I maintain the right to tell you that you’re a jackass and I’m not getting into that metal deathsuit.”

One day, they’d manage to get Jenna something that offered more protection than the armored outfit she wore now. Her main argument was always the loss of her body perception and movement speed, but both of those meant nothing. If she’d put a suit of armor on, she’d know.

Before they could mention any of that, Jenna continued. “Is that all you want? ‘Cause I’d have to check, but I think site Epsilon has the most guards on duty. If it works for you, I can issue a two-week notice to wrap up and cleanup and have those people on the main base within the month.”

The Leader nodded. “I’ll check the records.” Always enjoyed more work. “And we have to control Locus. He stopped answering my calls, however, which doesn’t leave us with much.”

Jenna caught their eye, and sighed. “Oh, don’t say it.”

“We’ll have to use Felix again.”

“Lahja, fuckin’ hell…”

For whatever reason, Jenna looked uncomfortable. “I’m more upset at the notion than you are.” Felix was theirs, after all. They would love him to be happy, not abused. “I wanted to take him away today, but then this happened, and I really don’t know if there’s another way to stop Locus from finding us.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt him,” Jenna said. “He’s already been through too much.”

“I did say that.”

“Don’t hurt him.”

The Leader caved to her, mostly to get out of this building. The smell of blood was starting to be sickening. “I can promise you that I will not lay a hand on him,” they said carefully.

They wouldn’t. But they would another way to get what they wanted. They always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the guard.
> 
> and - as for the Leader's name, Lahja - the j is pronounced as a y. fun facts.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for allusions to rape, sexual assault, and physical violence bordering on torture. This chapter also contains a graphic panic attack and a focus on subsequent panic. Tread lightly.
> 
> I'd apologize for this being late - because it is - but this is a rough fic. Difficult to handle at time, especially when its author is having problems. In any case, here is an update. Don't worry if the next one takes a while as well. Currently, I'm piecing together the next few important events and a proper timeline.

Felix was pissed, to put it simply. 

He had been promised safety, or at least that was what he had assumed. Being told that no one was allowed in? That should have meant no more guards, no more violence, no more violation. He should have been okay, should have had the time to focus on escaping or finding a way to contact Locus. 

And when he didn’t, Felix should have defended himself. It didn’t matter that he had busted ribs. He was better than that and he knew it. There never should have been someone who could do this to him- never should have been a first time, a second, a third. Felix was frightening, powerful, and maybe if he told himself that enough, he’d actually stop the guard from touching him. 

He was better than his nightmares too, far too powerful of a person to be reliving such bullshit in his dreams. Felix woke up shaking, sweat sticking his clothes to his body. For a few moments, the nightmare was all too clear - hands on his body, that sneering twisted face. In the dream, Felix had been powerless, utterly incapable of moving to stop it, and that feeling persisted. He sat up in bed, staring at his shaking hands and trying to forget the quiet throb of pain in his thighs. As the details of the dream faded, he wrapped his arms around himself and vowed a slow death on the guard that had ever dared to touch him. 

He was weak, and angry, and before this ended, someone was dying by his hands. 

When he stopped shaking, Felix took another long, hot shower. He scrubbed as his body, wishing that he could reach inside of him and remove all evidence that that man had ever touched him. Or that the water would grow hotter, scald him, burn the dirtiness out of his skin. 

It didn’t work and Felix left his shower angrier than ever. Outside this room, the sun was rising and he glared at the sky as if it had offended him personally. 

He was naked for hardly two minutes, unable to stand the thought of being so vulnerable. Being naked in this place only got him hurt, pinned down, and overpowered. He couldn’t stand it. Hatred crawled down his throat as he pulled on clothes, for both the guard and the Leader - and perhaps a small amount still reserved for himself. 

No one came for him the entire day, but that only made his nerves worse. Felix spent his time pacing restlessly around the room and waiting for something to happen. When the door opened, he hid in the bathroom, pressed up against the closed door. He put his head against the door, listening for the hiss of his door closing again over his own racing heart. Each time it was just food, laid out on the dresser; while the portion stayed the same small amount, the quality was improving. Today, the meat in his dinner was practically a steak, drizzled in sauce. Felix took his time in eating it. 

Once the tray was empty of food, Felix found himself considering the silverware laid out on it. The guards never gave him a knife - meaning he had to rip at tough meat with his own teeth most days - but the fork was sharp. 

Forks could be deadly, he thought. With his nerves shot as they were, Felix was sure that he needed a weapon. He needed an upper hand for when the guard came back for him, so he washed the fork off in his sink and shoved it underneath the pillows on his bed. Then he considered the spoon that was left, sitting among the scraps of food. 

If he left that there, someone would notice the missing piece. The last thing Felix needed was more assholes putting their hands on him, and a beating would happen if they thought he had kept something. Even if that something was silverware. 

Easiest solution was to open the window and chuck the spoon out between the bars. Felix sat on his bed then, in front of the pillows and the fork hidden beneath them, and watched as gang members strolled through the courtyard beneath him. Vaguely, he felt like he should have taunted everyone down there. It seemed like something he would do, but right now he was listening intently for the door again. When it opened, he held his breath, still staring out the window. 

The guard said, “Where the fuck is the silverware?”

“Somewhere out there,” Felix answered. “Tried to hit someone with it. Failed.” He turned to watch the guard leave with the tray, complaining under his breath about Felix being difficult.

He could handle being difficult. He had a weapon now. 

As he settled down to sleep, after ticking off another day in the back of his book, Felix kept one hand wound around the fork, ready to lash out if someone woke him up again. It didn’t happen, he had no nightmares, and Felix woke to another plate of food. While he ate, he considered taking this fork as well; he didn’t, simply because throwing silverware out windows was going to irritate someone very fast. 

Just like the day before it, no one came for him, and Felix got antsy, anxious, and paced once more around his room. 

Around the time his dinner should have arrived, the door opened to the Leader instead. Felix stood by his fridge, frozen in the act of retrieving a bottle, and stared at them. Something was building inside of him, some brilliant idea - something that was so close to hope that Felix would have shut it down in any other situation. 

The Leader held his dinner tray. Their hair was tied back, face impassive, and the gaze they fixed on him was hard. None of that mattered. With the Leader here, Felix had another option, one he had forgotten about. With them, he didn’t need that fork or anything else. 

He said, “You.”

The Leader tilted their head toward him. “Yes. I’ve brought you food.”

For once, Felix didn’t care about dinner. He closed the fridge door instead, taking a few steps toward them. “You - you said something last time you were here.” He watched as they set the tray on the dresser, where it always went. They said nothing, no longer even looking at him. “Something about a home or whatever? You can take me away from here.”

Silence set in, and Felix could feel his heart picking up speed. This wasn’t something he should be so nervous over, and yet he couldn’t shake the monster crawling down his spine. 

The Leader spoke, finally, eyes sliding back to him. “I promised you a home,” they said softly. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

It wasn’t a question he was meant to answer, but still - “Yes. You did.” 

“You want to leave with me?” they asked.

Anywhere would be better than here. Felix didn’t think of what could happen with the Leader, what this promise of theirs meant. He only had to think about the guard and his heart leapt into his throat. “Yes,” he said. It actually sounded calm and he was proud of that, for about as long as it took for the Leader to come to stand in front of him. 

This close, the braids in their hair were visible, wrapping around to where it was pinned back. The Leader took his face in one hand, and sighed. It was as if a wall had fallen, the exhaustion in their face was strong, only dwarfed by the longing there. It was disturbing. “Felix, I am so sorry.” 

Felix only stared. 

“I can’t take you away from here,” the Leader continued. “Not yet.” 

As quickly as his hope had risen, it fell again, and Felix jolted back from them. 

“I’m sorry,” they repeated. “I really am.” 

He wasn’t getting out of here. The one out he had, and it was taken from him. He spoke, hearing the shake to his words and hating it. “You said you’d take me out of here.” 

“I know. And I will.” They stepped closer to him and Felix backed away again.

“Bullshit.” He was trapped here, trapped where the guard could get to him, where he would be violated over and over - “You’re suppose to take me away!” he said. His heart was racing, beating a steady, fast paced rhythm against his ribs. It seemed to be stealing the ease of breathing away with each passing second. “You can’t give me that and then take it back, and - and act like you’re sorry!”

The Leader frowned, a pained look on their face. “Felix, please - “

Felix shook his head. “Just get out,” he said, forcing the words out. “If you’re not - if you won’t get me out of here, then go the fuck away.” He didn’t see their reaction, turning completely away and pressing a hand to the wall beside him. It was so hard to breathe. His heart felt like it was pounding in his throat. Vaguely, he heard the Leader scold him for his language, but the words swam over him. Felix stared at the wall beside him and watched his hand start to shake in time with the cluster of nerves exploding down his spine. 

Suddenly, it was all he could do to draw in air. Short, shallow breaths that felt like a punch to his gut. His shoulders were shaking, knees giving out, and he sank to the floor with a small, frightened noise. 

The Leader wasn’t going to help him. No one was. He was alone here - he knew that, he had always known that. 

To have even a seconds’ hope was stupid. 

Felix clasped one hand to his mouth to stifle a broken sob - the sound of it frightened him. And that, in turn, frightened him even more. He shouldn’t be afraid, he was  _ never _ afraid. Yet here he was, on his knees on the cold floor, trembling at the thought of being left in this room. All he could think of was the guard and spending every night waiting and fighting and losing. He thought,  _ “I can’t do this,” _ and it echoed through all the thoughts and the half-remembered pressure of hands on his hips, of the horrible feeling of violation stretching him open. 

Felix shook, sobbed, and felt as if he was drowning. With his hand over his mouth, air was impossible - he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable to free himself, to save himself. The guard was going to have him again, over and over and over, and Felix couldn’t stop it. 

The sudden thought that he was going to die right now struck him like lightning. His hand dropped from his mouth to floor, sliding over it as he fell onto his side. Sweat trickled down his back, feeling too cold against skin that was suddenly too hot. He felt the floor beneath him but hardly registered it, too focused on persistent thought of the guard, of what would happen once night fell. 

There was no way for him to tell how long he laid there, shaking, struggling to breathe. He only knew that it was ending when the breaths he drew in were less shallow, when each intake didn’t feel like a knife. Everything felt weak, and he stared at the closed doors and wondered just when the Leader had left him there. Maybe they had seen him collapse and just walked away - he wouldn’t have noticed. 

It took him a bit longer to stand, and all he did then was walk to his bed and curl up on it. The smell of food had filled the room while he had laid on the floor, but he couldn’t bare the thought of eating it right now. 

Felix closed his eyes and took in several long breaths to calm himself. He needed to have control of this whole situation, and whatever the fuck just came over him was ruining it. He was tired down to the very core of his being. As he laid there, he could feel himself drifting off slowly, only to awake suddenly with a start.

At his door stood his guard, staring at his food with a frown. “Not eating, huh?” the man asked. “What, don’t like your meal choices?” 

“Fell asleep,” Felix muttered. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and considered the guard briefly. After a beat, he asked, “Are you the same guy that watches me at night?” 

“Nope. I get the day shift.” 

Looks like Felix didn’t have to stab this one. Not yet, anyway. 

The guard was still standing in his doorway. “You gonna eat this or what?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You got ten minutes, then. And don’t throw the silverware out this time.” 

Felix slid off the bed as the door shut again, sighing. Sleeping some seemed to have helped, just a little, and he was hoping eating would as well. It wasn’t as if he could pass up meals in this place anyway. After he ate and the guard came to take the tray away, he curled up on the bed and waited. He laid there for hours, tense, his heart pounding.

Once it was dark enough that he could hardly make out the door to his room, Felix shifted, reaching for the fork hidden under his pillows. The door opened soon enough, after a wait that felt never ending and far too short simultaneously. Footsteps headed his way. He took a moment to reassure himself that he’d be fine, that this time he wouldn’t let himself be fucked ruthlessly by some monster. Slowly, he sat up and looked, steadying his gaze on the guard standing at the foot of his bed. 

His hand slipped from under his pillows, still gripping the only weapon he had. 

The guard was holding a knife - not Felix’s own, not even one close to caliber of Felix’s blades. The edge of it caught the moonlight through Felix’s open window, and he felt his heart seize in his chest. In the light, it looked serrated. “You gonna cooperate?” the guard asked. 

Felix shook his head, ripping his eyes from the knife. “I think I’ll stab your eyes out,” he said. “That sounds like more fun.” 

And then the guard was lunging for him. This time, there was no hateful language, no slurs or threats. There was a dull rage in the guards’ eyes, a look that Felix recognized from the first time he’d been alone at night with this man. The guard hadn’t been this angry since then, only arrogant. Tonight, he struck with the blade to do harm - to cut Felix open rather than slice jagged lines into his leg. 

The guards’ attacks were sloppy and Felix deflected them easily with his free hand. Still, he was injured and weak and less than he should be. The guard climbed onto his bed, pushing him down with the same hand he held the knife in. He snarled, “Bossman wants to fire me,” and Felix struggled against him. 

Panic was gripping Felix in a torrent, clawing through his chest. The guard was close, so fucking close, and he forgot about the fork he held in his hand. He could only think that he was failing again. 

“I’m going to be fired because of you,” the guard continued. His hand slid down to Felix’s throat, gripping and squeezing. “Unless I manage to convince that spoiled bitch that I’m worth keepin’ on. How do you think I go about that?” 

Felix wasn’t sure he could answer, but the guard wasn’t giving him a chance to anyway. The blade of the knife was pressed tight against his throat and as Felix squirmed, he felt the edge pricking his skin. 

“I get a week,” the guard said, “and then I’m done.” He was leaning over Felix now, knees planted to either side of Felix’s hips, the ugly snarl on his face inches away. Felix barely saw him, too lost in panic and the overwhelming fear of where this would end up. He jerked and the guard growled a curse; he bucked his whole body, and only succeeded in making the guard let go of his throat. Still lying beneath the man, Felix drew in shaking breaths that very quickly became coughing. With a frown, the guard slapped him with his empty hand - hard enough to snap Felix’s head to the side. 

“When I came to see you again,” the guard said, “I wasn’t going to leave marks. But if I’m gonna be fired, why the fuck not? There’s not a thing stopping me from beating your smug little face in.” 

Felix turned to glare at him, but it didn’t have the effect he’d like. He still couldn’t think straight, still consumed by panic. This, though. What the guard was saying. He couldn’t let that happen, wouldn’t let himself be beaten and treated like scum.

Even if he failed at stopping the sex from happening, Felix could stop a fight. He could still do that. 

The knife was pressed against his throat and he couldn’t stop the hitch in his breath. He hoped so bad that the blade wasn’t serrated, that it was a trick of the light earlier. 

The guard settled back, sitting on Felix’s thighs now. He said, “We gonna start with giving you some more marks,” and then tapped his free hand on Felix’s thigh. Where the tallies he had carved there were healing. “Think I owe you at least two - one for last time, one for tonight.” 

At the mention of tonight, Felix snarled what he had been to be a curse. It came out weak, and the guard smirked. It was still filled with fury. “Get out,” Felix choked out. “Get the fuck away from me.“

“Nah.” The guard was reaching for Felix’s pants as he spoke. Every word was laced with venom, the guard’s hatred pouring off of him. “You should know how this goes by now. Just shut the fuck up, cooperate, and I won’t cut your balls off when I rape your pathetic ass.” 

It took that one word - the one thing Felix refused to admit to himself was happening - and the flood of panic in him snapped. In a brief moment of clarity, he remembered the fork he had kept, his sad excuse for a weapon, and snatched it up. One swing was it took to dig the four-pronged tool straight into the guards’ bicep. It stuck deep and the guard screamed wordlessly. As it all rose back, the panic and the fear, Felix shoved the guard off of him and dove from the bed. 

The guard screamed at him, “You motherfucker!” 

Felix ignored it, jumping to his feet and bolting for the one door that would open for him. He had the bathroom door open with the guard on his heels, and slammed it shut just to feel it shake when the man beat against it. His breath was shallow and quick, whole body shaking, and Felix merely slid down to the floor. He kept his back against the door, feeling it shake as the guard fought to open it. Maybe it was the fork in his arm, the injury he’d gained, but for some reason the guard quit sooner than Felix expected. 

He was left with his back pressed hard against the door, listening for the sound of the door to his room shutting and only hearing his blood rushing. He didn’t want to do this again, to end up curled on the floor and sobbing over something like this. Two times in one day was too much, too weak.

At least this time, he thought he might forgive himself for the reaction. This time, it wouldn’t be because of the Leader and some false hope.

The guard had said it. He had admitted to it and Felix still found himself refusing it. He was being tortured and abused, made powerless, and he could handle that. 

Not this, though, never this. 

Felix had been raped and the thought of it shook him to his core. He dug his hands into his hair and willed the sobs building in his chest to go away. Crying was useless. Cowering here in a bathroom was useless, but there had been nowhere else to go. He couldn’t think of what to do about this, how to make it stop. 

Too long he sat there, coiled in on himself, shaking and trying to calm down. Refusing to believe it and unable to get it out of his head. Eventually, he took a deep breath and released it slowly. It shook, and one quiet cry forced its way out.

He thought about opening the door to see if the guard was gone, but then what if he wasn’t? Was Felix supposed to just bend over and let it happen? It was wrong. All of this situation was wrong, but the effect it was having on him was the worst. He wasn’t this type of person, and to react like this was wrong in every way. 

He wanted to leave, to get away, to open the bathroom door and be met with the king size bed in his own apartment. Some place where he knew that when he slept, he wouldn’t be woken up in the dead of night. And even if he was, then it’d be Locus that woke him. 

Felix wanted Locus. He needed Locus. There was a sense of normalcy that came with Locus, and right now, Felix needed that. He needed the comfort and the knowledge that when his partner joined him in bed, it wouldn’t be for anything wrong. 

Thinking of Locus made him ache, but Felix sighed and closed his eyes and let it happen. He thought of Locus, of the nights they’d spend together where sex set his soul alight, of how Locus grounded him. He thought about Locus’s stupid need to rationalize and obey and how deadset the man was on becoming such a perfect soldier - and how he kept Felix as his partner despite how they both knew Felix was a weakness that kept him human. 

He thought about how Locus would know what to do here, that Locus always knew what to do if Felix skewed too far off orders. Surely that would help him here. Tears leaked from his closed eyes and Felix ignored it to focus instead on how badly he wanted nothing else but for Locus to be here now, to come to him and hold him and help him find some kind of control. 

He found himself thinking of things like the scent of Locus’s bare skin, how it felt to wind his fingers into Locus’s hair and the annoyed grunt that came whenever Felix yanked. He thought about the minute ways that Locus showed expressions, the subtle shifts in his impassive face; of Locus’s eyes and his hands and how it felt when Locus devoted all of himself to Felix and nothing else. Sometimes Locus held him tight for no reason and Felix thought of that and how Locus always squeezed him and rumbled sighs against his neck. Because he always chose to be clingy when they were sitting, when the height difference wasn’t so awkward and when Locus could easily tip Felix over and lie halfway on top of him to keep him there. 

Felix didn’t think he had ever missed someone so much in his life. 

* * * * *

Early next morning, Felix was woken by heavy pounding against the bathroom door. He had fallen asleep on the floor, lying next to the door. The banging on the door continued, and he stayed where he was for several seconds, letting the noise shake him from sleep. 

His dreams hadn’t been good. Bordering on nightmares, even. 

When he finally got up and opened the bathroom door, there was a guard on the other end and another pair standing behind that one. All three of them wore the identical uniforms of Babylon and every one of them wore those damned helmets with the tinted visors. The first one said, “Why the fuck were you in there?” A man, then. Deep voice and annoyance in his words. 

Felix gave him a hard stare. “It’s a bathroom,” he said. “What do you think?” 

The guard snorted. “For the entire night? Right, of course. Just one long bathroom break for you.” One of the guards behind him said this didn’t matter, they had somewhere to be, and the man sighed. “Right. You’re comin’ with us. Get some shoes on and let’s go.” 

There was no explanation of what was going on, though Felix knew it could be nothing good. He stared at the guard for several more seconds, tired thoughts cropping up. Would he be moved to another room? Another group of sick guards come to help themselves to him? Torture? Felix was willing to bet on either of the last two and responded to the guard with a slow nod, and then slamming the bathroom door in the man’s face. He’d had enough of this kind of bullshit, of the torture and the guard and the lies the Leader tried to force down his throat. 

The guards outside were pushing against the door within seconds. Felix fought to keep it closed, but the simple fact was that three people versus one of him was never going to be in his favor. Not when they were all healthy and strong, not when he was injured and so very pathetic. 

The door pushed open, shoving him backward, and Felix stumbled before falling. He landed hard, glared up at the man reaching for him, and thought that he should be able to win this. Maybe if he had his armor or a knife - 

Maybe if he wasn’t so shaken from the night before. 

Maybe if he wasn’t weak. 

The same man that had spoken to him grasped Felix by his arms and forced him out the door. Felix struggled to pull away, the feeling of heavy hands burning through his clothes and into his skin, but he was simply shoved forward to stand between the three guards in his room. One of them, a shorter and leaner figure he wanted to dub as a woman, held a pair of handcuffs. The other, taller, had a pair of boots - Felix’s boots, one of those useless stupid gifts from the Leader. 

He said, “You really think you can put handcuffs on me again?” 

The person holding the damn things definitely sounded like a woman. “You think you can argue?” she said. 

Felix glared at her. 

She sighed. “You aren’t allowed in the halls without cuffs, not unless you’re being led by Boss. And I don’t see them anywhere, do you?” 

Felix bristled, anger twisting in his blood. The Leader, the goddamn Boss. Whatever they were, he hated them much more than he had previously just for leaving him in here. He pulled the boots on while the three guards watched him, glaring at his feet as he pictured how nice it would be to kick the Leader in the balls as hard as possible. 

They had to force the handcuffs on him. The angrier he got, the more he wanted to lash out, to attack someone. One guard had to hold him still so the woman could cuff him, and then they marched him out the door and into the brilliant clean hall. The woman guard led them, walking in front of Felix; the other two each took one of his arms. It kept him between them and only served to irritate him further. 

The walk took them through two nearly empty halls and up two flights of stairs. More people moved through the halls on this floor, not all of them in the Babylon uniform. Several that walked past wore casual clothes, a handful hurried past wearing medical scrubs. Barely anyone cast a glance at the guards and Felix, yet he still felt as if eyes were glued to him. Watching him. 

The room they took him too was small. A bench lined one of the walls, facing a mirror on the opposite side that took up nearly the entire wall. A table sat in the center, one chair in front of it. The setup faced the mirror as well and Felix rolled his eyes. 

“You people really don’t understand subtlety,” he said. 

The woman was holding the door open. She said, “Just in go inside.” She sounded annoyed. 

Felix didn’t move so one of the men shoved him through. He stumbled, caught his footing, and straighten up again. “Let me guess. The mirror is one-way and you’ve got some grand reason for putting me in here. Torture? In this room? I doubt it.” 

“Stop talking,” the woman said. 

“What are you going to do me?” Felix asked. His words came out venomous, demanding, and the guards didn’t care for it at all. He caught movement behind him and turned just in time to be slapped across the face. A snarl pushed out his throat, and his shoulders tensed. “Can’t I ask a question?” 

The man answered, “No.” 

Felix’s response was a threat - a loose one, with not even an inch of promise to it. There was no way for him to hurt anyone here; he wasn’t stupid, and taking on these three had already proven bad for him. Still, the same guard lashed out again, hitting him in the temple. “My God, I fucking hate you,” Felix growled. That was going to bruise. The ones he had gotten before hadn’t even faded away yet. 

“If you would just behave” -that was the woman, still standing with the door open- “none of us would have to resort to violence. You’re doing this to yourself.” 

Right. As if he was going to believe that. “Aren’t I supposed to be important?” Felix said. He was speaking to her, since the two men seemed to be idiotic brutes. “Like, to your Boss? Where are they, anyway? I’m sure they’ll be easier to deal with than either of you three morons.” 

The only pro to the Leader handling him was that they at least didn’t slap him for asking a question. 

One of the men, the one who hadn’t struck him, started to talk back but the woman quieted him instantly. She told the two of them to stop picking fights, and then all three of them left the room. For the next minute or so, Felix was alone. It was eerily quiet, almost as if the entire place was soundproofed. That was an element he might have expected from a room used primarily for torture, but this was a holding cell. There was nothing else it could be. He turned on his heels, looking over the entire room, and the only thing of interest he spied was the light of a camera over the mirror. 

The door opened again and a pair of armored guards walked in. Each one towered over him, and Felix wanted to blame at least some of that on the boots they wore. This wasn’t the typical uniform of light clothing, closer to the bulky style that he had seen Jenna wearing. They wore helmets that looked as if they’d be at home on an actual suit of armor. 

Felix said, “The fuck are you supposed to be?”

“Security,” one of the two answered.

“Sit down,” the other said. 

Goddamn if they didn’t even sound alike. Felix glared at each of them, noting the absence of guns. Their size alone was almost enough to make him obey - but then he took in his handcuffs, the distant ache of his ribs, and how he held no weapon either. Reluctantly, he sank into the chair at the table, knowing this was where he was meant to sit. The two guards, his security as it were, stood next him. One on each side, hovering near his shoulders. 

Then, nothing.

He sat there, the guards stood. They said nothing, no response at all to whatever bullshit Felix spewed at them. He cursed them, insulted them, tried to bait them. Anything to get them to talk and make the time pass faster, but nothing worked. These weren’t the first people capable of ignoring Felix, but they were certainly some of the most irritating. 

Eventually, Felix leaned back, drumming his fingers on the tabletop and trying to ignore the cuffs limiting his movements. It felt like ten minutes had passed but it probably hadn’t even been five yet. 

A voice cut through the quiet, unexpected. It came from an unseen intercom, its’ owner unknown. Whoever it was had definitely modified their voice somehow. It said, “Proceed,” and that was it.

Felix was confused for only a few seconds. Heavy hands landed on his shoulders, gripping tight, and he jerked. This room wasn’t used for torture, he was positive of that, but that didn’t necessarily mean nothing would happen to him. Seeds of panic had taken root the night before, he had never had the time to rest and let it fade; as the hands tightened on his shoulders, the panic rose again. 

Then the other was leaning forward, gloved hands gripping one of his own. Felix’s panic skyrocketed and he tried to pulled back. It did nothing, and before he knew it, this guard was pulling one of his fingers back. 

He knew what was going to happen instantly. With no way to stop it, not even able to move away, Felix’s eyes widened. When his finger popped, he winced and inhaled sharply. His finger broke with a sharp snap, and Felix tried and failed to hold back a cry of pain. There wasn’t even a second's’ pause before the guard silently repeated the process on the next finger. 

When this one broke, Felix cried out again. Bizarrely, all he could think was that this was his right hand, the one he preferred for his knives. The guard gripped a third and Felix choked on a sob. Again, the guard broke it. 

Then, there was a pause. Just long enough for the man to walk around the table and start the process again on the other hand. Felix managed a gasp of, “Fuck,” before hands landed on him again. 

Another two fingers were broken before that voice intervened again. It said, “That’s enough,” and the two guards stepped away from him. Felix was left sitting there, staring at his hands, at the mangled mess of broken fingers. Tears fell from his eyes and every breath he took was shaking. This was bad. He could hardly think from the pain of so many broken bones; all that would come to mind was how much it hurt. 

It wasn’t long before the door to the room opened again. Felix didn’t even look up, still focused on his hands. He stared at the odd, painful angles of his broken fingers and cursed to himself. Someone leaned down next to him and Felix looked up at the impassive face of the Leader. They said, “I’m truly sorry about this, Felix. I’ve sent for a doctor to come fix up your fingers - “

“They’re broken,” Felix said. “Your doc got some magic cure for that?” His voice shook as he spoke and the Leader’s face fell into concern. They reached toward his hands and Felix jerked them back, muffling another cry as fresh pain lanced through the broken digits. 

The Leader straightened up again with a sigh. “The doctor will set your fingers,” they said, “and give you a refill on your pain medication. You’ll see him once a week to make you’re healing correctly.” 

Felix scowled at them, then at his fingers. He was trying to blink away the tears in his eyes, make himself stop crying. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier. “Why the _ fuck _ did you do this?” He looked back up at them, at that irritating concern in their eyes. “Is this why I couldn’t leave that room? Because you had to break my fucking fingers?”

To think that he had been denied relief from that jackass guard because the Leader had to abuse him some more was enough to make Felix’s voice shake again. 

The Leader didn’t answer. They gave him one last long, saddened gaze, and then stepped aside as the doctor came in. It was exactly as the Leader had said: the doctor, a greying man with long cold fingers, set Felix’s broken fingers into splints. He gave no care to how much it hurt to put the bones in the right place, ignoring Felix’s stifled cries as he worked. When he left, he handed a bottle of pills to the Leader. He hadn’t said even one word to Felix. 

Felix was pulled to his feet by the two security men. He had forgotten they were even in there, and hatred festered in his gut when he was grabbed by them. They marched him out the door, down the stairs, and back to his room, not speaking. The Leader followed them, just as silent as the other two. They didn’t speak until they were alone with Felix in his room, after they had taken a bottle of water from the fridge in the wall. 

They stood in front of Felix, and frowned. “You should take your medication,” they said, “but I’m not sure how you’ll do it.” 

Felix glared, reached forward, and snatched the bottle out of their hands. He had used his left hand, the two broken fingers sticking out awkwardly. After a moment, he realized he couldn’t exactly twist a cap off when his other hand had three broken fingers and was burning and throbbing with endless pain. So, with his eyes on the floor, he held the bottle out again and waited until the Leader and taken the cap off. They gave him two pills, and watched as he swallowed them down. 

Then they gestured to the bed, an obvious invitation for Felix to sit. He didn’t move, and they nodded once. “I want you to understand something,” they said. “I did not choose to do this to you.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” they insisted. “I want you to be safe, and I certainly would have liked to have taken you away from here when you asked to leave.” 

“And instead you broke my fingers,” Felix said. “Thanks. Get out now.”

They shook their head. “No, Felix. I’m not responsible for this.”

“Oh? Blaming your security team?” He scowled. “You didn’t do if you didn’t put your hands on me, huh? Fuck off.” 

The Leader frowned. “It was your partner,” they said. 

Felix stared at them, and then he was laughing. It was strangled, startled out of him by the audacity of that statement. “Are you fuckin’ insane? You think I’m going to believe you?” 

“Locus is responsible,” they said calmly. “Whether you believe me or not, it was his fault that you’ve been hurt.” Felix cursed and they ignored it, merely raising their voice over his. “I gave him a chance, Felix. I have given that partner of yours a lot of chances to prevent you from coming to harm. It has never worked. He is why you’re injured, why you have broken bones now. He watched this happen to you and did nothing to stop it.” 

It was a lie and Felix knew it. Locus wasn’t like that. Locus was never like that. 

The Leader put their hands on Felix’s shoulders, and he glared. “You’re a fuckin’ liar,” Felix snarled. “Don’t touch me. Ever.” 

It took them a second, but then they pulled their hands away from him, standing straight. “You’ll understand someday,” they said. “I know you will.” 

“Go the fuck away.” 

“I’ll come see you soon,” they continued. A pause, then they added, “ The offer to leave here with me still stands, if you’d like to leave?” 

Felix was ashamed of how quickly he answered: “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” He glared, directing his gaze at his hands and thinking with another sharp stab of panic of the guard. Hopefully he’d be safe tonight. 

The Leader said, “I have to prepare a place for you, but you’ll be out of here soon. And I promise, Felix. I won’t let you be harmed again.” 

He didn’t believe that. All this place led to was him being hurt in one way or another. He only had to power through, last until he found a way out, until Locus found him. Felix watched the Leader leave, his broken useless hands at his sides. 


End file.
